


To Me, That's What You're Worth

by notalone91



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Crushes, Eddie Kaspbrak & Ben Hanscom Are Like Brothers, Established Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Established Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, First Date, Gay Sex, M/M, Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Mixed Signals, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Sex, Single Parent Eddie Kaspbrak, Wedding, as in the other pairings are there but like only in the most nebulous way, forced kiss (not by richie and eddie), foreplay in a car, this is a richie and eddie fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalone91/pseuds/notalone91
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak came from a life of privilege but was smothered by his overbearing mother.  That all came to an end when, at just sixteen years old, sitting on the bathtub with his high school girlfriend, he watched the little stick turn pink.  19 years later, he's been raising little Edie on his own in Derry and maybe, just maybe, he's lonely.  And maybe he's got a thing for the diner owner, Richie Tozier.  But there's no way Richie feels the same, right?
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66





	1. seen the waters that make your eyes shine

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have anything to say for myself. 
> 
> [However, it should probably be mentioned that this would be, roughly, 2011... ish. Not current, not exactly Gilmore Girls timeline either. Eddie's kid was born in 1992 and she's just finished her first year of college, making her 19. It's not explicitly stated, nor is it particularly important, but just in case you're confused by the appearance of an iPhone eventually, or the readiness of cell phone calls.]

Derry, Maine was a strange little town. The whole town felt like it sat on top of itself. In the town square stood a park with a band shell, a dreamy little gazebo, and a massive, off-putting Muffler Man statue reworked to look like Paul Bunyan. It was only about an hour away from Portland, where Eddie Kaspbrak grew up in the gilded cage his mother, Sonia, built for him. 

He had been delicate, so she said; shy, mild-mannered, sickly, asthmatic, as many allergies as he’d had pill bottles in his medicine cabinet, homeschooled until he begged and screamed and threatened to run away all in the name of human contact. When he did finally get her to give in, she sent him to Neibolt Academy, a prestigious and expensive private school. His mother had money and influence, not that it made any difference to Eddie. So did his father. Even though they were no longer married and his father’s ‘custody,’ if it could be called that, was limited to one weekend a month.

Secretly, Eddie blamed himself for that, too. 

Eddie was lonely.

So, when the school’s Student Red Cross Society welcomed him with open arms, especially their president, Myra, he had been thrilled. When Myra asked him out, he’d been hesitant, but he agreed because, that was what he wanted, right? A girlfriend would certainly make him less lonely. Even if the way that Bill Denbrough looked at him made his stomach do flips.

Sex would definitely stop those thoughts. It was just because Bill was so cool and smart and all the girls loved him. If he got a girl of his own and stopped wondering why they all wanted Bill, it would all make sense.

That’s what he thought.

Instead, as it so often does, sex only complicated matters. Sitting on the edge of the tub with Myra the night before her parents were set to come home from Turks & Caicos, Eddie closed his eyes as they waited for the timer on his watch to beep. With the beep came the appearance of two pink lines and the end of Eddie’s life as he knew it. 

10 months and one kick to the proverbial crotch after another, Eddie and baby Edie were moving out of Myra’s parents’ house. He put her safely in her car seat in the back and kissed her head before peeling out for anywhere that wasn’t that life.

When asked by Bill, the one person he’d kept contact with from that part of his life, who, it turned out, was actually really cool and super helpful with taking care of Edie, why the fuck he’d chosen Derry, he answered: “I think I saw it on a postcard somewhere.” That was partially true, sure. But he neglected to state that the postcard was on the front desk of the literal inn, The Derry Townhouse, he’d stopped in to see if there was any chance that they needed any help around the property in exchange for a place to stay for a little while until he and his infant daughter got on their feet was something he’d neglected to mention. 

Luckily, the woman who ran the inn, Arlene Hanscom, had a son about Eddie’s age and took pity on him. In the back of the inn was a small kitchen. She sat Eddie down at the table and immediately took Edie out of her car seat and started whirling the baby around with her, grabbing a spare baby bottle out of a high cabinet and filling it with milk. They made small talk while Eddie nervously watched her every move. He’d never let anyone that wasn’t himself, Bill, a doctor, or, while she still wanted to, Myra, hold Edie. But something about this woman put him at ease. 

After an hour and a full pancake breakfast where his aptitudes were discussed, she offered him the caretaker’s room in the basement and set him up with a crash course in maintenance, figuring that it might be nice to have someone on the property for guests. She called her house and told her son, Ben, to make his way down and bring his girlfriend, Beverly. Beverly, she explained, lived with them and did some odd jobs around the townhouse as well. As it turned out, she had a soft heart and a tendency to help as much as she could.

Eddie eased a little as Arlene sat down at the head of the table beside him, rocking the baby easily. “So, tell me, Eddie,” she said quietly, reaching her free hand out to rest comfortingly over his, “how did you and precious little thing end up here with me?”

He looked down at his daughter’s chubby little cheeks and honey brown eyes and let out a sigh. How had they wound up there? He started explaining- his mother had thrown him out when his girlfriend got pregnant, he’d moved in with said-girlfriend, who’d decided at seven months pregnant that she didn’t want the baby anymore. Eddie had tried to talk her into letting him keep the baby. “She said that the only way that would work was if we were going to break up,” he said, reaching out for his daughter’s hand and letting her wrap her tiny fingers around his index finger. “I told her that that was going to happen either way because I didn’t want to be with someone who would just change their mind like that.” His voice broke as he imagined, as he so often feared in those last months of Myra’s pregnancy, all of the things he would miss if he didn’t get to be a part of the baby’s life. “She was just going to give her up. Leave her at the hospital and be done with it,” he said quietly. Sensing the struggle in Eddie, Arlene eased the baby across to her daddy. Eddie pulled her to his chest and rested his cheek against her head. “I couldn’t even look at her after that.” He kissed his daughter’s head and then smiled. “I scrimped and I saved and I was hoping that the delicate balance would hold out a little longer, but Myra started screaming about my still being there last night and her parents threw me out. So,” he took a deep breath and shook his head, “here we are.”

“And I’m glad you are,” Arlene said sweetly. She was, ordinarily, an even-tempered, mild-mannered woman, but after Ben and Bev arrived, she enlisted them to help Eddie get set up in the basement and disappeared. Ire for the people who had turned their backs on these children- yes, Eddie was now a parent and making adult decisions, but he was sixteen. He was a kid!

There wasn’t much she could do, obviously, but try to be there for them. Eddie was going to need help, more than he could possibly know.

The years went by and Eddie and Edie became the darlings of the tight-knit community. Edie was brilliant and kind with all of her father’s determination and fast-talking. Eddie took night classes and, eventually, took over the Derry Townhouse, along with Ben, who’d quickly become his best friend and rock, when Mrs. Hanscom retired. Ben ran the kitchen, Eddie handled the business end. Bev had taken up a political role in the town, seated on the city council, as well as running the local grocer. To Eddie’s surprise, a weekend-visit-slash-writer’s-retreat from Bill wound up becoming a recurring thing as he fell in love with the town librarian, Mike. Still, even as he got to be a functioning grown-up, he never could get the hang of the cooking thing. Once the hardware store in town reopened as a diner called The Clubhouse, courtesy of two best friends, Richie and Stan, that was squared away, too. It certainly didn’t hurt that, somehow, they managed to fall right in with the people who were already important in his life. Somehow, after everything, he’d made a home and a family for himself and his little girl.

His little girl became his big girl and before Eddie knew it, she was a woman and off at college, Ivy League with her whole life ahead of her. Eddie, too, had his own journey ahead of him. 

It wasn’t that it was a point of contention in his life. He had a great kid, a job he was good at, friends he adored, a beautiful home- his life was pretty fucking great- except how waking up to find an arm over his shoulder and having someone to crash on the couch with did certainly have its charms. He hadn’t really thought about it much, truthfully, until fairly recently.

One night, he found himself dogpiled into a spare bed at the Inn with Ben and Bill as a bit of a bachelor party, watching a marathon of eighties fantasy movies. Try though he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness.

Sure, it was easy to push it off and say that it was because he could hear Edie’s comments as easily as he could hear his own. 

The problem was, it wasn’t that. He knew it. Every time Ben’s phone buzzed on the nightstand or Bill made a comment about wedding plans, he could almost pinpoint it. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what had stopped him. It was never the right time. He was always running. He’d always put Edie before himself and, truthfully, they didn’t need anyone else. 

But.

It would have been nice to have someone to stand with now that the music seemed to have finally stopped.

Every time he tried a new dating site, he saw the “never wants kids,” and “gold-star gays only” everywhere he turned. Both of which, obviously, didn’t apply to him. The ones that did want kids immediately turned tail and ran when they realized that it wasn’t a hypothetical. 

There had been some promising ones over the years when he’d decided to let his guard down, but nothing that wound up with more than a long, tear-filled phone call to Ben or a binge night with his kid. 

Still, there was a ridiculously charming diner owner with an affinity for garish Hawaiian shirts and ridiculous coke bottle glasses whose dating life he found himself a little too invested in. And okay, maybe he had dropped everything to come to his aid when Eddie’s dad was hospitalized a couple of years prior. And, maybe he was the first person he thought of when he needed advice. And, maybe he thought it was cute the way he cared so deeply for Edie. 

And, sure, he fit the really very generic description of what Eddie wanted in a partner that could have been fulfilled by any 6’+, funny, employed guy over 30 who was attracted to guys and could cook and had a sweet smile and kind eyes and floppy brown hair that always seemed messy, loved his kid, got along well with his friends, was willing to help him when his life started to spin out of control as it so often did, but wasn’t so staunchly independent that he wasn’t able to accept help himself, matched his neverending speech pattern toe-to-toe and also happened to live in Derry. 

Yeah.

Super generic and not at all reading like the recipe for a very singular man with a rainbow flag hanging over the coffee cup logo for his diner in Derry’s town square.

Not at all.

But that didn’t matter. He couldn’t. Even if he _could_ , Richie certainly wouldn’t-

Would he?

When the morning came and it was time for the day-of wedding prep to begin, Eddie found himself in near-constant contact with Richie. Because, why wouldn’t he be paired up with Richie as his partner-in-crime for a wedding of all things? As the best men, they’d been pretty well aware of their proximity to one another. Mike was, surprising no one, the more relaxed of the two. He would have been happy to get married at the inn with just their little group. 

Bill, who had never really shaken the private school upbringing and the lifestyle that his book sales were beginning to afford him, wouldn’t hear of it. They’d turned the whole town square into something out of a Romantic Era novel and the guests were encouraged to dress as such. Richie had agreed immediately, despite Mike’s insistence that he didn’t have to. Eddie agreed to the hat and a muted color scheme. Edie was devastated that it was during her finals, so she would a.) not be able to see her father slowly but surely give in to her Uncle Bill’s whims and b.) not be able to get another wear out of the beautiful blue cotton regency dress her father had managed to sew for her for Halloween her sophomore year of high school when she was fairly certain that she was Marianne Dashwood. She insisted, instead, on photographic evidence. Video if he could manage.

There were plenty of little fires to be managed. Both men passed each other what felt like a thousand times, but hadn’t had a chance to stop and actually check in, past “this is a message from Mike,” or “Bill wants to make sure that Mike remembers to grab his something blue from their dresser and insists he’ll know what he wants.” They had decided, after Richie had shoved a coffee and a muffin at Eddie on his way by and forced him to sit and eat it because they’d do nobody any good if they both fainted from hunger or if Eddie had a nasty caffeine withdrawal headache, that they’d get all of this done more efficiently if they did it together. 

What neither of the grooms knew was that they had also, sort of by default, decided that they were going to be each other’s date, so it made sense for them to do it this way anyway.

“It’s going to be awkward. I hate weddings to begin with, so for the best man to show up alone,” Richie had bitched not-so-quietly to Eddie one morning a few weeks earlier when he’d come into The Bridge for his morning cup.

Eddie took a long gulp of his coffee and stared out the window. “I love weddings. I just wish…”

“What?”

“I just thought by now I might have had one of my own,” he said before returning his gaze to the diner owner. “It would have been nice to have a partner all this time.” He sighed, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “I wish I could find someone to go with but I don’t want to bring a stranger as a date to my best friend’s wedding, either.”

Seeing an opportunity unfolding, Richie grabbed the coffee pot off the burner and refilled Eddie’s cup with a smile. “Well,” he said, leaning down on his elbows, “I just so happen to know someone…” He watched as his friend perked up a little, taking a sip with an expression that clearly said that he was listening. “He’s tall, funny, handsome, makes a mean cup of coffee…”

Eddie put the cup back down on the saucer. “Richie-”

“What? I’m serious,” he said moving around the counter to sit next to him. “It’s not like we’re strangers. We both have to go, anyway. And,” he felt his cheeks start to burn a little as he looked down and began tearing a straw wrapper to bits, “I always have a good time with you, so I’ve actually been thinking that it might be fun if we went together,” he confessed, trying not to notice the way that Stan stuck his head out of the kitchen and gave him an approving thumbs up.

They sat in silence for a moment. Eddie ran through every possibility in his mind, but couldn’t think of one that made him as happy as the idea of spending the whole wedding laughing with Richie. “When you put it that way…” he groaned playfully, nudging Richie with his shoulder.

By the time they finally got to sit down at the wedding reception, there was all sorts of gaiety (and gay-titty, as Richie had so eloquently coined the interesting way that some of the more foppish costumes definitely highlighted some interesting points of the male anatomy, leading to a debate between the pair whether or not codpieces were in vogue in 1813 or whatever year it was actually supposed to be). The one that nearly broke them, however, was the married couple’s insistence on a dramatic performance of Darcy’s proposal from Pride and Prejudice.

“I mean, they’ve read the book, right?” Eddie whispered, leaning close under Richie’s arm. “Or seen the movie? I mean, this can’t be the scene they wanted,” he said, looking up at Richie, eyes wide as Ben climbed up onto the top of the gazebo to start the rain machine- more accurately, a garden hose attached to a length of PVC pipe with holes drilled in.

Richie gave a snort of a laugh and leaned a little closer to Eddie, resting his head atop the other man’s. “Not to mention, Darcy’s kind of an asshole in this scene and if this is how they see their relationship, what does that say about their marriage?”

Running through what he could remember of the scene in his head, Richie had a point. He knew enough about Bill, though, to know that he certainly didn’t see himself a Darcy. He saw himself definitely more of a Colonel Brandon than any other Austen character, but this was for Mike. Bill’s bridezilla, over-the-top ideas stemmed from the fact that Mike had said once, early on, that he had always thought a Jane Austen wedding would be the dream. So, Bill ran with it. Pride and Prejudice was a semi-annual read for his husband, so it was clear that that would be the one to get incorporated most heavily.

Once Ben had the rain machine up and running, they were off. Things started off well. Then, Bill took one step toward Mike and promptly wiped out in the mud. “Think of something not funny,” Eddie hissed, stifling his laughter in Richie’s shoulder.

Mike moved to help his husband up and succeeded, only to find himself on the ground in the process. “Can’t,” Richie whined through tightly clenched teeth, watching as the process started over. He winced as Mike tried to right himself out of a split.

“Clowns with teeth and pinchers-” Eddie offered. Richie looked at him questioningly but was distracted by the crash of the rain machine and Ben making their way into the havoc. “I don’t know. I’m out,” he cackled, pulling his date to his feet to go and help their friends, seeing Bev and Stan entering the fray from either direction. 

It wasn’t long before they were all drenched in mud and laughing hysterically. They all looked like they’d been splashing through sewage by the time they were all standing and heading into the driest parts of the town square. Ben had a Stan shaped outline on his back where Bev and Richie had gathered up as much muck as they could and, with the help of Eddie’s bizarrely unexpected strength and low center of gravity, flattened the two of them out, covering them in it. 

Their antics did not go without retaliation. The seven laughed and screamed until much of the attendees, save Bill’s family, had joined in. Even muddy and sopping wet and exhausted, the celebrations went on all night. Still, the night, as all do, had to come to an end sometime. When it did, Richie chose to walk Eddie home.

Eddie’s house wasn’t too far from the center of town, so their conversation never died off, even once they reached the front walk. Eddie looked up at the pale blue house quickly then back to Richie. It almost felt like the end of a real date.

Across from him, Richie was completely oblivious to the whirring in Eddie’s mind. That house had been Eddie’s dream. Richie knew it. Even before he’d met him, Ben had told him stories about his friend who was running his mother’s inn with him. He knew that the man wanted the little two-bedroom on Witchum for himself and his young daughter. He knew now how hard Eddie had worked to make that dream a reality all on his own. He knew how that wistful little smile he still wore years on plucked at his heartstrings the same way it had when he’d walked into his diner that morning just eight years prior, smacked his keys down on the counter and said, “Congratulate me, I’m a homeowner.” He also knew how much that ridiculous, determined, stubborn, lovely man made him smile like no other- and how desperately he wanted a life with him. “That was fun,” he said, catching his attention and earning a smile of his own.

“It was,” Eddie said, shifting his weight and laughing, “Can you believe that Mike’s grandfather actually sat down and calculated a dowry?”

Richie smiled and glanced down, thankful that Eddie’s front walk wasn’t well-lit, aiding in hiding the blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, but I don’t know that it was legitimate.”

Eddie gasped, scandalized. “How so?”

The smile on his face was almost as distracting as the mischievous glint in his eye. “You didn’t catch him say something that sounded like Lakh?” Richie said with a laugh. Eddie shook his head, a little confused. “He probably used some jokey website because that’s not necessarily period-appropriate, although British imperialism being what it is-”

It was easy to forget, sometimes, with his gruff demeanor and dirty jokes and ridiculous choice in clothing that the man was, indeed, super intelligent and cared so much about everyone. That was another reason that the Could-Be-A-Real-Date-If-Either-Of-Us-Would-Say-Anything date felt so right. Richie was, by all rights, a catch and- oh. _Oh._

Oh, _that’s_ something.

“Richie?” he interjected, truncating his rant a little, with a fond squeeze of the hand. 

Richie blushed again. “Sorry.” He had let his mouth go, again, while his brain was on another plane entirely. Namely, how could Eddie still look so cute covered in mud? And why had he waited so long? And oh, _God_ , was he making a mistake? This _can’t_ be a mistake. _Please_ , don’t let this be a mistake.

His fears were quieted as Eddie just smiled and shook his head. “No, it was cute,” he assured his date, keeping his hand folded over Richie’s. “I really did have a good time today,” he said, stepping a little closer and placing his free hand on Richie’s shoulder. It had been a while, he supposed, since he’d had reason to flirt, and maybe, he was wrong and Richie didn’t mean it that way- he probably didn’t- but it felt right. He urged himself to be brave, to say something, to make a move. Instead, he waited.

Blinking his thoughts back to life, Richie answered, “Me too.” 

There was a moment- the briefest of heartbeats- where Eddie was going to give up and head for the door. Inside of that space of time, Richie saw his entire life play out, never having another chance like this arise. Eddie would meet someone and fall in love and he’d have to hear about every date. He’d have to watch as they got married. Hell, the next wedding he got invited to might have been Eddie’s to some Interior Designer named Scott with a Lexus and a yappy little dog and it would be fine… But he couldn’t let that happen without knowing. He couldn’t throw away what might be his only shot at loving Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. Eddie Kaspbrak with the smudge of dried mud under his eye that he moved to swipe away. 

Eddie murmured a shy “Thanks,” and averted his gaze. Richie was gentle and kind and Eddie was terrified that he’d be risking a great friendship if he misconstrued any of this as a move. He glanced back at his house again and shifted, preparing to move.

As their hands separated, Richie could feel his chance slipping through his fingers. “We should do it again sometime,” Richie said, a little louder and more frenzied than he’d meant to.

“What? Go to a wedding together?” Eddie asked, trying his damnedest not to get his hopes up. He tried to play it off with a nervous laugh. The only thing that succeeded in was making him sound more nervous.

“Or a movie,” Richie suggested. In a wave of faux confidence, he added, “You do like those, don’t you?” 

Eddie’s mind immediately started on the mental gymnastics required for him to reach a position where he could see through what was obviously some sort of false front. He couldn’t do it. No amount of sabotaging somersaults or logic layouts or dismounts of disbelief would allow it. For whatever reason, Richie was, to the best of Eddie’s perception, 100% serious. “Love them,” he said, still waiting for the inevitable ‘gotcha.’

Nodding, Richie managed to eek out a weak “Good.” There was probably something else that he was supposed to tack on, but those big brown eyes were staring back at him and he could hardly remember his own name.

“Good,” Eddie laughed in response, trying to insinuate that he was looking for further details.

The question in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Richie jolted back to reality and asked, “Sunday? Seven?”

He was floored. Absolutely floored. In his entire 35 years of life- Hell, certainly and especially not in the seventeen years or so that he’d been out- he’d never had someone make up their mind that easily. “I-” he stammered. Eddie was even unable to come up with a witty remark. He was just plain happy. “Yeah, okay. Seven.”

“I’ll see you then,” Richie said, decidedly pleased with himself. He turned and started to walk away, then continued to walk backwards, voice picking up increasingly as he slowly backed away. “And, probably a couple of times before then, because you’ll need coffee and calories between now and then and it doesn’t seem likely that Ben will be much help with his back out like that, poor guy.” He was rambling. He knew it. Eddie certainly knew it. But he couldn’t help himself.

Eddie took a couple of steps to follow him, then froze. “Yeah. I hadn’t thought about that, actually,” he said, Shit. We have that stupid benefit conference coming in. Whatever. I’ll figure it out,” he shook the thought off and remembered that there was something more important at play. “G’night, Richie,” he called after him.

Richie had already turned away so he could smile like a giddy little kid freely. “Good night, Eds,” he called over his shoulder.

“Don’t-” Eddie groaned, but Richie was already turning off of Witcham and onto Jackson. Still, his pride insisted that he finish his sentence, mumbling “call me that…” as he headed up the walk to his front porch. 

  
Once inside, he remembered just how filthy he was and how decidedly not cute he must have looked flirting all grimy and gross like this. He was probably going to have to shower twice tonight just to make sure that he got all of the gunk off. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to worry about Edie needing a shower until the next morning. He headed upstairs and turned on the taps. 

Suddenly, in the deluge of steam and body wash and hot water, it hit him. He was going on a date. With Richie. In less than a week.

When his head finally hit the pillow, he couldn’t manage to find the sleep his aching legs so desperately sought. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and checked in on Ben. He was asleep, but Bev assured Richie he was fine. He was just being a baby. She sent her love along for Edie and said goodnight. Eddie tossed and turned for an hour before finally realizing why he was awake.

He had a date. 

And he had to tell his daughter.

The next morning, Eddie was awakened by the living reminder that he talked too much and should never, ever, have been entrusted to teach another person how to do the same. 

Edie bounded up the stairs, calling out for her father. “Dad, you awake?”

He groaned and turned over, stuffing his head under his pillow. He had no idea what time it was, but whatever time it was, it was entirely too early for this much noise. Especially without-

“I got you coffee but you can’t have it unless you get out of bed and hug your favorite daughter,” she said in a cheery, sing-song voice that was entirely uncalled for before noon. She waved her hand over the Starbucks cup and tried to waft the aroma through the cracks in the door jamb. 

Wrenching himself out of bed and immediately regretting the too-tight shoes he’d worn to the wedding and the decision to walk because it was such a beautiful night, Eddie grumbled, “Only daughter, but I suppose the intricacies of that would be entirely lost on you, wouldn’t they?” He knew it wasn’t loud enough for her to hear, but he could have sworn he heard an indignant scoff in response as he tugged on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt from the town’s Living Art festival a few years prior.

Raising her eyebrows and rocking back onto her heels, Edie sighed loudly, “I guess I’ll just drink this myself, then.” She tucked her cup, still lidded, under her arm and moved her hand to turn the knob. “It’s 2 o’clock, Dad, and I’m coming in!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Eddie corrected, opening the door before she could reach it. He snagged the cup and took a sip before taking Edie’s, too, and putting them both on the night table. He hugged her tightly, lifting her off the ground, and swung her onto his bed with a bound. “I’ve missed you kid,” he said, ruffling her hair.

She pressed her head into his palm and smiled. “Missed you, too,” she said. “Now, spill-” 

Eddie took his phone off the charger and immediately began showing her Edie of the chaos. And all of the fashion. She was absolutely heartbroken to have missed it, but with her last final being at 8 a.m., there was no way in hell she was going to be able to do it. 

The pair spent their entire first night of Edie’s summer break eating pizza on the living room floor in pajamas, catching up on all of the trashy reality shows she’d missed out on by being a ‘boring, responsible grown-up,’ per her father’s assessment. 

After Edie had headed in to bed and Eddie could hear her snoring softly, he got up from the kitchen table and stood in her doorway, just watching his baby girl in the same way he’d done hundreds if not thousands of times before. He folded his arms and smiled at her warmly. As much as he hated Myra and would never understand why she didn’t bother with Edie, not even so much as a birthday card some years, he thanked his lucky stars every night that somehow they had managed to make such a great fucking kid.

Taking a few light steps into her room, he carefully closed the book she’d been reading, marking her page with a stray bobby pin from her floor, and placed it on her bedside table. He covered her up and switched off her reading lamp. In a wave of nostalgia, he leaned in and kissed her on the temple. “G’night, Little Edie,” he whispered, smoothing down her hair and moving toward the door.

“Love you, Dad,” she mumbled sleepily.

Eddie’s heart throbbed. “Love you, babygirl.” He silently closed her bedroom door and tiptoed up the stairs to his own room, gathering up a few odds and ends from their movie night as he went. His phone was the last thing he grabbed. Instinctively lighting up the screen, he noted the missed text on the screen. He read it over as he walked. What he hadn’t expected was the flood of warmth reading the sender’s name. 

Richie: I know u dont cook but I just saw a recipe on tv for coffee infused bacon jam and thought of u

Richie was thinking about him. Unprompted. His cheeks burned red hot as he tapped out a reply. “Coffee AND Bacon?! Am I dead?! Am I dreaming?!”

He climbed into bed and stared at his phone, watching as it went unchanged. Just as he closed his eyes, it dinged him back to life.

Richie: if me texting u is ur idea of a dream then sure maybe ;)

There was the blushing again. “Always.” He pressed send, then instantly regretted it. It was too forward. He was in the middle of typing out a jokey response to cover his ass, when he received the response.

Richie: man u do know how to make a guys night. :) hows the kidlet? glad to have her home?

“More than you can imagine. She’s good. Sleeping, like I should be,” he answered, trying not to notice the little flip his stomach did at the realization that Richie asked, unprompted, about his daughter. It was fine. Nothing to start imagining china patterns over, that’s for sure. However, breakfast with toast and coffee bacon jam on a classic blue-and-white was… Jumping the gun. Urging himself to get a grip, he added, “but this really sweet guy who should be in bed too was thinking of me and I couldn’t leave him hanging.” Sending it off was the easy part. The wait, however, was torture.

Richie: guess Ill say goodnite then. see u soon.

The man’s pouting was clear even in text. “Soon, indeed. I can smell the coffee, pancakes, and Spicebomb already.” 

Richie: how the HELL do u know what colone i wear?

Eddie smiled. He had certainly done his job in keeping him intrigued. Or creeped out. God, he hoped he wasn’t creeped out. But the tobacco and bergamot were so prominent that it only took one stroll through the fragrance section at Macy’s and a single whiff of the grenade shaped bottle and Eddie knew exactly who it smelled like. He smiled, imagining the way the spicy scent, mixed with the lingering aroma of breakfast and the crisp scent of his soap enveloped him every time Richie hugged him. He fell asleep wondering how all of that was imprinted in his mind, but somehow it had escaped his observation that he knew all of that and he’d managed to deny his feelings to himself.

The next morning, Eddie and Edie made their way to The Bridge and took up at their favorite table. Stan greeted them and gave Eddie a knowing look. If Edie noticed, she was kind enough not to mention the shades of crimson dancing across her father’s cheeks. When he took their drink orders behind the counter, he stuck his head through the order window and whispered something to his friend. There was a loud clatter as Richie bashed his head on the ticket carousel, followed by his frame sweeping into view, then out again. Stan laughed and pulled him by his apron strings out of the kitchen and stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, blocking his best friend and business partner from running away and attempting to poach his feelings with the pears for his special this morning, Ticket To Pear-adise French Toast. “So, what’ll you have this morning?” he asked, attempting coolness, but seeming nervous enough that, even Edie picked up on it by then.

Richie had been on edge all morning. Earlier, he had come running downstairs from his apartment over the diner brandishing his phone at Stan as soon as he heard the delivery door unlock around ten minutes to six. “Look at this. What does this mean to you?” he asked frenetically.

“Nothing before 7:30 a.m.,” Stan grumbled, moving to the coffee pot, slamming the basket in, and ignoring Richie entirely.

“But-”

He turned back to look his business partner dead in the eye. “Seven. Thirty. A.M.” 

That was part of their deal. Richie’s bizarre sleep schedule often meant that his energy levels and Stan’s didn’t match in the morning. Which was fine. They were a diner and they opened at 8 a.m., so it wouldn’t do much good for both of them to be grumpy in the morning. Nothing would get done. The people of Derry would starve. “Fine,” Richie huffed, moving into the kitchen to start working on the day’s food prep. He tapped at his phone, then shoved it in his pocket.

Once Stan had drunk his coffee, they worked side by side in companionable silence. Richie loved the creative aspect, putting together new recipes, different flavor profiles. Sometimes they flopped, like The Great Tikka Loaf Debacle of ‘08. How was he supposed to know that ground chicken got dry really fast and that if you let tikka sauce get too pungent it can, indeed, be off-putting. Sometimes, though, it was genuinely genius, like the Holiday Hangover Bread Pudding from that past fall. Everyone told him that the fresh cranberries would ruin it, but they were like little pouches of unexpected flavor. Sweet and salty, just like him. Stan, on the other hand, reveled in the method of it all. He loved to chop produce. His knife skills were unbeatable. Each piece was identical to the next and the last. His favorite, though, was baking. Everything was precise. Scientific. Too much baking powder and everything crumbles. Too little fat and everything’s dry. There was a rhyme and a reason for each ingredient and each ratio. 

Somehow, that meant that the men worked together beautifully. It didn’t hurt, of course, that they’d been friends since kindergarten and knew each other’s rhythms as well as they knew their own. Better, maybe.

At precisely 7:30, Richie’s phone blared Peanut Butter Jelly Time, startling Stan clear into the sink. “This is a text message I got from Eddie. Last night,” Richie said, resuming his attempted question from earlier.

Stanley glared at him, then looked down at the screen. He lifted his eyebrows, impressed. “That was a line.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said, bashfully, looking back at the text. He’d hoped that it was, but he wouldn’t dare let himself believe it. Even if he had asked Eddie out. Even if there had been a moment-

“Richie, he knows what cologne you wear,” Stan interjected, snapping Richie out of his internal monologue, “Without, presumably, ever having asked or seen you apply it.” When his supposition was left unanswered, he continued. “Which means at some point, he went up to a bottle of cologne,” he picked up the spray bottle of water they kept next to the stove, “sprayed it,” spritzed himself in the face, “and some part of his brain locked on to ‘That smells like Richie!’” He, then, proceeded to douse Richie in spray after spray.

Swatting him away, he tried to argue, “But-”

Stan groaned, pushing himself up onto the counter. He shook his head and looked directly at Richie. “He said he should have been asleep but a sweet guy was texting him.” He pointed down at the phone in his hand and laughed. “Richie, seal the damn deal already and put me out of my misery.”

“Hey! If you’re so miserable, you can find a different best friend,” he whined, folding his arms and leaning back against the opposing counter. He kicked at Stan’s ankle for emphasis.

In that moment, Stan realized just how little Richie had changed in the roughly 30 years they’d known each other. “You’d still figure out a way to bug me.” He hopped off the counter and moved out into the dining room, calling over his shoulder without so much as turning back to look at him. “Don’t pout. You know I’m right. Besides, who else would I unleash all of my judgement on.”

Sucking his protruding lip back into place, he followed suit. “Maybe you’d disperse it on several people so that one wasn’t left feeling like you hate them,” he said, dejected, crossing to the door to flip the sign to open and start rolling up the blinds.

It was Stan’s turn to follow his friend. “You know I mercilessly tease you out of love, right?” He turned Richie to face him and held his face between his palms. “You’re like one of those big, dopey golden retrievers.” Richie rolled his eyes, having heard this comparison before. “I want you to fetch the ball, instead you’re mashing your teeth and tongue against the glass door.” He crept his fingers up to his hair, then pushed him away roughly. “And you need a haircut.”

“Excuse you!” Richie whelped in mock offense, scarcely hiding his laughter. “Say what you will about my dating life, but don’t insult the do, curly top.” He made his way back into the kitchen to finish up his prep.

Despite being the topic of conversation for the bulk of the morning, Eddie seemed none the wiser. He peeked around the diner nervously until Stan came over and took their drink orders. He was, however, more than aware of the Keystone Cops routine that went on for Stan to coerce Richie into coming out of his hiding spot. He took their order, then departed with a wink. 

“Richie must have something in his ey-” Edie started to comment, but her father grabbed her by the wrist and out of the table onto the sidewalk. “I guess we’re leaving?” the girl said, not fully awake yet. Her father stopped her, looked up and down the street, then shoved her into the corner, behind a potted plant. “What is your damage, Heather?” she reeled, steeling herself on Eddie’s shoulder.

He forced a laugh. “Funny, Edie.” His daughter leveled him with a single glance. She may as well have laced her gaze with truth serum. Edie lifted her eyebrows expectantly as she watched her father grasp for words. He dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. “I think I’m dating Richie.”

That was not what she was expecting. “Wait, what?”

“I think I’m dating-”

Eyes wide, she threw her hands up to stop him. “I heard you! You _think_ you’re dating or you _are_ dating?

“I think-” Eddie broke eye contact with his daughter and stared at the pavement. “I don’t know. After Bill and Mike’s wedding the other night, I’m not really sure of anything? I just-”

Edie took a step back. “Uncle Bill’s wedding? Dad! You’re just telling me this now?!” She had been home for a whole day, the wedding had been days prior. Gearing up for playful over-exaggeration, she yelped, “Remember when we used to tell each other everything?”

“Remember when I was the grown-up?” he bit back, nonplussed.

Balling her hands up and digging them into her hips, Edie shook her head. “No.”

It wouldn’t have been fair to argue that. “Fine,” he said, giving in. He took his daughter’s hand and tried to steer the conversation back. “Okay, so, you know how the best man and the maid of honor usually do a lot together?”

“Yes?”

“Well, in this instance, we did.” He paused, but Edie seemed to be wordlessly urging him to continue. And we had a lot of fun and we danced and we joked.” He smiled softly and shrugged, once again. It was stupid, he knew, to be this worked up and this confused over it all at his age, but still, he couldn’t banish the butterflies. “Then, he walked me home and asked me to go see a movie. And, there was a moment and just, I don’t know. It was nice and-”

Edie raised an eyebrow, questioningly. “Danced how?” she asked.

Taken aback, Eddie wasn’t sure how that was relevant. “What?”

“Fast, slow?” she suggested. “Touching or save room for Jesus? Together, alone but in the same vicinity? A group dance?” The possibilities were endless. She just hoped that if her father was dirty dancing with Richie, it was more Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze than Julia Stiles and Sean Patrick Thomas. That, she could handle- maybe.

Her father laughed. “A what?”

She rambled quickly, bringing her hands up and waving them frantically in front of her face. “Virginia Reel, Hoedown Throwdown, Cha-Cha Slide, Macarena, The Stanky Leg-”

“Okay, Jesus! I get it,” he laughed. Social dancing was the phrase she had been looking for but he was certainly not going to argue.

Still, Edie tapped her foot impatiently. “So?” she asked, waiting for a response.

“Slow.” He gave a shy smile. “It was-”

Apparently, that still wasn’t particular enough. “Slow like R. Kelly,” she asked, “slow like Air Supply, or slow like Frank Sinatra?” Very different styles. For her dad, she would have liked Air Supply. The idea of the vintage prom he never got sounded nice and docile. There may have been nothing wrong with a little bump and grind, but she preferred the image to stay far from her brain.

“Just, slow, Edie!” he said, hoping his daughter’s outrage wasn’t genuine. “It was a waltz, okay. Does that clarify things?”

It did. That was okay. “It was a waltz?” she asked, calming a little.

The smile crept back to Eddie’s face. This time, though, there was no denying it. “Richie can waltz,” he said, almost like he still couldn’t believe it.

Her father’s tone was not particularly reassuring. “Oh my God,” she said, like years of interactions were starting to click into place.

“What?” he sighed.

Edie shook her head quickly, trying not to look as stunned as she felt. “Look at the way you just said that!” she said. The edge in her voice was starting to dissipate, a little, as she warmed to the idea.

“Said what? _Richie can waltz?”_ Eddie asked. Maybe rolling his eyes was too much, but it certainly felt necessary. His daughter had never given this strong of a reaction to a guy he’d dated before. Granted, there had only been two she’d met, but it was still a different enough experience. And he’d even dated her high school English teacher! The other one… He was still a sore enough subject that Eddie didn’t even like to think about it.

Obviously, that was what he said. But that wasn’t the way it came across and he knew it. “Yes, but like _Richie can waltz._ ” She pitched her voice cartoonishly, marking Eddie’s stunned yet turned on tone. Not that she would ever, ever have phrased it that way. Ever. That didn’t, however, mean that she was above needling her old man. “Like you’ve got a more horizontal type of dance in mind!”

“Edie! I did not say it like that,” he shrieked, eyes widened in horror at his daughter’s insinuation. He knew he should never have agreed to college. “I just-”

They stood in silence for a few seconds while Edie got her thoughts together. “So, do you want to be dating Richie?” she asked.

That was the thing, really. If Eddie really wanted to be dating Richie, Edie would never have stood in his way. She loved Richie. He’d even made her a coffee cake for her sixteenth birthday. It wasn’t like she had any doubts about him. He was one of her dad’s best friends, and who better to fall in love with?

As if he could hear her thoughts, Eddie chimed in. “Woah, woah, woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He moved to stand next to his daughter and draped his arm around her.

“Do you?” she asked, looking up at him, her brown eyes so much like his own it was uncanny sometimes.

It was a simple enough question. And the answer was vibrating through the expanse of Eddie’s being. Why, then, couldn’t he bring himself to say it? “We don’t know if this is that at all. It could just be me overreacting and making a mountain out of a molehill but-”

Edie decided to go a simpler route. “Did you say yes?” she asked, reaching up to her shoulder and wrapping her father’s hand in her own.

“What?” he asked, not following.

She groaned, frustrated for the first time in her life that her father couldn’t read her mind. “To the movie! Did you say yes?”

“Yes,” he answered, quietly avoiding the judgment he could feel pouring out of his daughter.

“That sounds like quintessential dating to me.” She shifted her weight between her feet awkwardly, nestling herself in her arms. “Kind of dating 101, actually. I’d have expected more fun and originality out of Richie if we’re being honest. At least mini-golf or-”

Eddie rolled his eyes, interrupting her tangent. “But he might not have meant it like that? People go to movies platonically all the time.”

Moving back toward the door, hoping the conversation was reaching the end, Edie scoffed. “Oh, come on, Dad!” If he was overreacting, she just wanted her pancakes. If he wasn’t overreacting, she wanted her pancakes and a quick, vaguely threatening conversation with Richie.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back. He eyed his daughter imploringly. “No, seriously, he could have just meant it to- to- to-” He trailed off, unsure of what exactly else he could have meant. “I don’t know, to get out of the house or something and since I am currently one of the pathetic aging gays who is actually, quite literally keeping up with the Kardashians because I have nothing better to do because my genius daughter has decided to forgo her namesake and go to college and have a life of her own and-”

Donning an affected, heavier New England accent than the one she had naturally, Edie drolled, “Yes, Derry is just oozing with romance, ghosts, and other things, Dad.” He reached over and gave her a little tap on the side of the head. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” she laughed. Ever since he showed her Grey Gardens when she was probably too young to have appreciated it, she’d leeched on to the Little Edie archetype for dealing with her dad. Still, she dropped it as quickly as she’d picked it up and stepped toward him, taking his free hand in her own. “Look, the point is, you can’t just… date Richie. If you’re with Richie, you’re with Richie. The whole town will know.” Her point was valid and it terrified Eddie. “But, and this is a big but-” she said quickly, pulling him into a hug. “You seem happy about it. If you are as happy as you looked, just go for it, Dad.”

Tears blurred the corners of his vision. “Let’s go back in there. You can tell me if you think I’m right,” he said, squeezing his daughter a little tighter and directing them toward the door.

Finally, Edie managed to let herself voice the one thought she’d been holding back. “You do remember that I dated Richie’s nephew, right?”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. “Ohhhhh, yes. Trust me. I remember.” A year prior, Richie’s nephew Miles had up and left Derry for who knows where without so much as a goodbye or a fuck you for Edie, who’d dealt with his broody bullshit for over a year. When he managed to get the information out of Richie- he’d been held back and was embarrassed, so he dropped out and ran away, unable to live with the thought of being a second-year senior with a girlfriend starting an Ivy League school. “I also remember going to New York with every intention of beating the shit out of an eighteen-year-old, so-”

“Dad!” she whined. That wasn’t her point.

He sighed, covering his eyes. Frankly, just the thought of the little creep made his blood pressure spike, but he swallowed it down. “Fine, maybe not. But, is that what you’re worried about?” He took his daughter’s hands once more and looked her straight in the eye. “Are you worried that Richie’s gonna hurt me like Miles hurt you?”

“No,” she lied.

Laughing lightly, he wrapped Edie tightly in his arms. “Baby, listen. I’m a big boy, okay. I can deal with my own heartache. But,” he pulled back and draped his arm over her shoulder, moving toward the door, “we don’t know if there’s any reason to worry about that, okay? I could be wrong. I probably am. I’m probably lonely and projecting but just-”

“You’re probably not,” she said coolly. “I’ve seen the way he’s always looked at you.”

“Always,” Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You were a kid. That’s not always for you.” 

She pulled the door open and laughed. “Come on. Let’s go see if I can trade you in for a different model. Maybe even one that cooks!” she said, looking at Richie and smiling.

Eddie’s eyes went wide as saucers. “You’ll pay for that, little girl,” he guffawed, pinching her in the ribs as they sat down. 

“Is everything okay?” Richie asked, making his way back to their table with a grin.

Nervously, Eddie looked up and lost his train of thought somewhere between the veins in Richie’s hands and the gentle creases around the corners of his eyes. “Yes? Yes, I-” he looked down and reached for his coffee cup with trembling hands and missed it entirely, knocking it over. “Fuck,” he hissed, reaching to pick it up, only to upend himself out of his chair, taking the cup with him to the floor with a crash. “Ow.”

Richie wasn’t sure what to make of it, but based on the way that Edie had instantly folded her arms over her head, he figured it might have something to do with him. “Are you sure?” he asked. When neither Kaspbrak responded, he looked back at Stan who simply shook his head and retreated into the kitchen. “I’ll get the broom…”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Edie admitted when Eddie had finally righted himself. She handed him her napkin and shook her head slowly.

In a huff, he simply answered, “Thanks, kid.”

The rest of their breakfast went by uneventfully. Edie decided that, yes, her father was definitely dating Richie. Eddie decided that, yes, he was definitely okay with that. Still, though, there was no conversation. Eddie dropped Edie off at a friend's place, then headed off to work. 


	2. Kiss Me Twice 'Cuz It's Gonna Be Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie makes a move. Or is it Eddie? Plus, a surprise visit from an unwelcomed guest.

One of the benefits of working with your best friend is the ease with which things can operate. By the time Eddie reached The Derry Townhouse most mornings, everything was up and running. The night manager usually still had things under control and Ben would have the brunch menu rolling, filling the air with the smell of scones and coffee and sausage, and be prepping for the dinner service. 

The air that morning was quiet. Odd. He could hear the sounds of the kitchen operating, but Ben’s normally chaotic energy seemed lacking.

Entering the kitchen, he searched the counter for his coffee cup, then reached around Ben to get the pot. “Are you okay?” he asked, offering a hand to attempt to pull his friend to a seated position from where he had been lying flat on his back. When Ben simply brushed him aside, he took a pensive sip of his coffee. “What happened?

Wrenching himself off the counter awkwardly, Ben grimaced. “It’s nothing. Just a little back spasm. It’s fine,” he lied.

One eyebrow arched, Eddie didn’t really need to ask. He knew. “From the wedding?”

“Ye-” Ben cut himself off, thinking better of admitting defeat to that. “No. I’m just old.”

Eddie laughed and gestured to his sculpted arms, certainly not befitting of an “old” man. “Okay, obviously, gramps.”

Sighing as he slid down into a chair at the prep table, he shook his head. “Bev insisted that if my back was bothering me, that I shouldn’t be on my feet and cooking.”

“Smart lady,” Eddie agreed, sitting cross-legged on the table above him, cradling his cup close to his face.

Staring at his hands, Ben ignored him. Obviously Bev was smart. To Ben, she was everything. Of course, he knew she was smart. And right. She always was. “If I’m not on my feet and cooking, there’s no food and we have this huge block of rooms booked and-” he moved to get up, knowing he still had a fair bit of his morning prep work to do. He went to straighten his back, groaned and plopped right back down where he started with a defeated “Fuck.”

“Sit down, will you?” Eddie insisted, putting down his cup and circling his friend. He lifted up the back of his shirt and eyed the visible lump just below his shoulder blades. “Did you have anyone look at it after the wedding?”

“No,” he admitted sheepishly.

Eddie was shocked. “Ben! Are you kidding me?” he admonished. “You are not getting back into that kitchen until you are 100% signed off on by a doctor. Where’s your coat?” he asked, spinning into concerned parent mode. “Let’s go.” He reached out and helped Ben up, offering his shoulder for support.

“I thought the hypochondria was managed,” he grumbled.

Immediately taking offense to that, Eddie turned to him. “Do you want me to call Mom?” he threatened. Arlene was only about an hour away and she would be more than happy to come drag her son to the E.R. by the ear if she found out he was working himself too hard.

Shocked, and a little shaken that Eddie thought it was that bad, Ben yelped, “Please don’t!” He grumbled under his breath about how being a dad doesn’t make you everyone’s dad that Eddie missed entirely as he was retrieving Ben’s coat from inside the closet behind the desk. He reemerged, brandishing it at his friend who seemed to have given in. “Okay, fine, I’ll go.”

Eddie helped him out to his car, then thought it over for a moment. “Are you good to drive?” he asked, peeking his head in through the open door.

“Yes,” he groaned, turning the key. Even the simplest movement of his arm sent sparks across his shoulder blades. He put his hands on the wheel, then turned to Eddie. “But who are you going to have cook because I don’t think the clowns from Paneer & Weisz are going to be too happy with Top Ramen and Oreos as their only options.”

He smacked the roof of the car and laughed. “Hey! I make PB&J and Eggos, too. And, I make a pretty mean bowl of cereal. The secret is to pour all the milk in one spot so you don’t saturate the-”

“How did you raise a child?” Ben wondered, with no real bite.

“With love and affection and a little help from my friends,” he said, reaching in and pinching his cheek. “Like you’re getting from me now.” He slapped his cheek lightly before Ben could wrench himself away. He leaned down confidentially. “Here’s the thing, though-” Ben eyed him suspiciously. “Edie always told me when she got hurt and listened when I told her to stay off her feet.”

Ben had to object. “I seem to recall a botched yoga trip ending in-” 

With a thud, Eddie closed the door, blocking out the recollection of how he found out that he, indeed, could not do a handstand. And how hard it turned out to be to parent a fourteen-year-old with a broken leg. “Hey. We’re talking about your missteps, not mine,” he corrected. “Feel better, asshole,” he laughed.

Ben laughed a little too, reaching out through the window and patting his friend on the hand. “Thanks, Eddie. I’ll call later to check on you.”

“No. I’ll call your wife and make damn sure that doesn’t happen,” he called after him as he made his way out of the driveway and turned left, toward his house. In the rearview mirror, Ben could see that Eddie already had his phone out. He just hoped that he was calling someone to come cook, not someone to babysit him.

Eddie did both. His first call made sure that Bev was on her way home to Ben ASAP. The next, though, had been decided upon before he’d even gotten Ben out the door. He knew he needed someone to come and pick up the slack in the kitchen and he could do no better than hope that he’d be able to.

“Wazzap,” greeted the voice from the other end of the line.

Eddie spared no such greeting for Richie. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

Richie cradled his phone no his shoulder and handed the plates he was carrying to the kid, Adrian, who came in to wait tables on weekends, pointing to the table they were for. “What’s that?” he asked, stepping around Stan and sitting down on a stool at the end of the counter.

Looking up at the ceiling, he played with just how to ask. “Remember how Ben fell and threw out his back,” he started.

“No.” Richie knew exactly where this was going. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t do it for Eddie. He’d do anything for Eddie. But Ben… Ben was so particular. And his menu was all fussy french food. He loved the guy, but no. Absolutely not.

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Wait, you-” he couldn’t believe Richie not remembering. If he didn’t remember that, that meant he might not remember… No. No, that wasn’t possible. Confused, he just spluttered out another, louder, “what?”

Contrasting the circles Eddie was clearly spinning, Richie remained straight and to the point. “No.”

“No, you don’t remember, or no, to the favor?” Eddie asked, leaning on the check-in counter and covering his eyes.

Richie moved out of the busy dining room and sat on the steps that led to his apartment. “No to meddling with Ben’s recipes,” he clarified. “He’s fine dining and I’m comfort food and no. Absolutely not.”

“Richie-” Eddie whined.

He was abruptly cut off by a gruff, “No.”

Unwilling to take that, Eddie rolled his eyes and moved through the first floor to the kitchen. “So, dinner service starts at five, I figured you might want to be here a little earlier to get a feel for the kitchen and take a look at what we have in the pantry, talk to the-”

“No,” Richie reiterated in a sing-song that didn’t appear to make any difference.

“So, four o’clock, then?” Eddie asked, knowing he’d won.

Feeling his resolve crumble, Richie groaned out a pissy little “No.”

Reveling in the fact that he had won, he added a little salt to the wound. “Make sure to bring your kitchen whites.”

“Eddie-” he whined. He leaned up and stuck his head around the corner, beckoning Stan toward him. How was he going to tell him that he was on his own tonight?

Smiling, as though Richie could see him, he bounced on his toes. “Thank you, chef!” He’d watched enough Master Chef to know that that was the appropriate response.

Still trying to convince himself that he had a say, Richie tried to talk over him. “Eds!”

It was no use, though. With a rushed “See you soon, bye!” the line was dead. 

Stan stood, arms folded in the doorway listening as their line cook, Don, called up the next order in a ridiculous old-timey shorthand Richie had taught him in an attempt to woo the new waiter. Not that it was helpful, just that it might make him laugh. It did. They’d started dating long enough ago that Stan had hoped the lingo would stop. He wasn’t even sure that it was legit, but Adam and Steve were on a raft, wrecked with a plate of dicks and Pope Benny had a pair of drawers on deck,  _ apparently _ . He shook his head and watched Richie, who was digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

As he listened to the recap of the conversation, Stan could only laugh. He and Don would have it under control. He was fine to go save the damsel in distress. Still, it had to be said. Richie was helplessly wrapped around Eddie’s little finger and they hadn’t even gone on their first date. Maybe Adam and Steve weren’t the only ones wrecked…

Richie headed toward the inn around 3, figuring that Eddie would need lunch himself, and they could talk over the menu and he could give Ben a quick call for any specifics. Eddie bounded toward him and threw his arms around his neck. “My hero!” he sighed dramatically. 

They’d laughed. They’d flirted. Richie only had one or two minor freakouts that he was in over his head- who the hell serves souffle for dinner? Ben, that’s who. And it was such a complicated, finicky recipe, he was sure he’d be out in the weeds. But after a quick phone coaching session, he’d gotten it on his second try.

Eager to see Richie work, especially toward the end of the dinner service, when his work was nearly done- not to mention that, maybe, he just wanted to spend time with him- Eddie kept trying to pop in and check on him, but was met with a barrage of produce. “I miss Ben!” he yelled, laughing. “Ben never throws things at me!” He was getting ready to call back that if he throws things at him now, why should he go on a date with him when a ghost appeared right before his eyes.

Not a literal ghost. A literal ghost, he was pretty sure he could handle. There was plenty of salt in the kitchen. Plus, he was a child of the ‘80s. He’d seen Ghostbusters. Hell, Richie could pass for some sort of descendant of Spengler. It wouldn't have surprised him if he was actually some sort of ghost hunter on the side.

No, this was way worse.

“Connor? What are you doing here?” he asked, breath flooding his tone.

Of course, the moment he decided to let himself forget the shitfest that had been his relationship with Connor Bowers, he would show back up. The motherfucker.

“I came to see you,” he said, pushing his floppy blond curls out of his eyes. He gave a smile that was just oozing with the same slimy dishonesty that he should have seen through before. “I heard you made New England’s Top 10 Destinations and had to see for myself.”

Eddie shoved him away from the kitchen and into the lobby. “We’ve been New England’s Top 10 off and on since 5 years before Ben and I took over officially,” he corrected. Still, he wasn’t buying it and repeated, “What are you doing here?” He was losing his patience, not that he’d had any for this conversation in the first place.

Connor reached his hand out for Eddie’s and closed it between both of his. “I miss you.”

A chill ran down Eddie’s spine. “That’s nice,” he said, wrenching his hand free and crossing his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here?” he asked for what would be the final time before he threw him out.

“I work for Paneer & Weisz,” he answered, deflated.

Eddie choked out a laugh. “When did that happen?”

“I had a falling out with the owner of my last job over the way I treated his son.” Connor stared at the floor, deciding that, maybe, for once, the truth was the better option.

Another laugh. “I’ll bet.”

With that, he walked away, making a mental note to call his father and see what his side of that story was. Their relationship had improved over the years. If what Connor said was true, he was going to have to make more time for good ol’ Frank.

Unfortunately, like something out of a bad dream, Connor followed Eddie into the lounge. He grabbed him by the hand and turned him so that they were face to face. Eddie sighed and stared at the ceiling. Connor pulled him close and brought his hands up to Eddie’s neck, thumbing gently over the angle of his jaw. “I’m sorry, baby. I just-”

Eddie grimaced and struggled to extract himself. “Don’t,” he spat. “This is not happening.” He shook his head, finally managing to doff Connor’s grasp. “Get off,” he growled, pushing him off.

“Come on, all these beds around?” he replied. He grabbed Eddie by the waist and pulled him closer. “And one of them just so happens to be mine?” He smiled and gave a faux-shocked gasp. “Let me remind you why you loved me,” he said, leaning in close to Eddie’s ear.

That was quite enough. Eddie’s skin was absolutely crawling. Connor needed to be gone. “I never loved you,” he said, though that wasn’t explicitly true, he supposed. “We dated. That’s it!” He was trying not to raise his voice, knowing that there were other guests upstairs. Some part of him, though, hoped that the boss would overhear. “It was also a year ago and I haven’t heard from you since,” he reminded him. Eddie took a step back and clenched his jaw. Through gnashed teeth, he added a word of warning. “Just go up to your room and don’t bother me until you check out.”

Somehow, the message was lost on Connor. His right hand found its way back to Eddie’s neck. Before the hotel manager knew what was happening, Connor’s lips were on his and the hand that had been balled in his shirt was flush against the small of his back. 

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Richie had chosen to peek out of the kitchen to make sure that dinner service was over. Just in time to see Eddie slide his hands up to the other man’s cheeks. He felt as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room. He backed in and closed the door quietly. Dejected, and feeling horribly used, he leaned his back against the door and covered his face in his hands, willing away the image. He couldn’t. His brain played the gentle touch on a never-ending loop, forcing him to live and relive the placement of Eddie’s splayed fingers, seemingly inching toward the blond’s hair.

Seemingly.

In reality, Eddie dug his nails into the bastard’s cheek and dragged, taking long gouges of flesh with him. “Ow! What the fuck!” Conner yelped, stunned, as Eddie gave him a rough shove. He moved closer and clasped his wrists, trying to restrain him before he could hit him again.

“Get off of me!” Eddie growled, turning his ex’s arms away roughly and shoving him back once more. Heart hammering away beneath his ribs, he took a moment to collect himself. “On second thought, how’s this? Get out, Connor. You are not welcome here.”

Pissed, Connor attempted to argue. “I’m booked until-”

“Funny,” he said, eyes wild. “Owner says you’re not.” He pointed toward the front door and reiterated his point. “Go.”

“Or what?” he snarled. Attempting to paw the blood away, but hissing in pain, Connor laughed. “I’ll have you arrested for assault.”

Eddie simply shook his head and offered out his wrists, showing bruises. “Self-defense.”

“Good luck proving that,” Connor answered, refusing to move. He had the best lawyers in Maine, all the money in the world, and four distinct wounds on his face. The case was open and shut. A lover’s quarrel. At worst, it would be thrown out.

With a dismayed grin, Eddie gestured over his shoulder to the mantel clock. “That’s a camera.” He pointed to a plant in the corner. “That’s a camera.” He nodded into the hallway. “There’s one on the stairs, too. Proof enough?” 

Realizing that he was right, Connor fisted his hands into his hair. “Fuck. Okay.” He looked to his ex and willed a few tears to catch in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I shouldn’t ha-”

“I don’t care,” Eddie said, shaking his head as he grabbed Connor by the collar and dragged him toward the door. “Get out.”

He stood in the doorway and watched as Connor walked to his car, dejected. He waited until the taillights had turned out of the driveway to finally close the door. He paced the lobby briefly. 

Stopping with his palms flat on the desk, he began to sob, full, heart-wrenching sobs. Realizing how loud he must have been, he stifled the sound with one hand and doubled over. He couldn’t believe it. After everything, just when he thought he might be happy. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, as though singed. Realizing what had just happened, he dashed to the coat closet and pulled his travel toiletry bag from his briefcase, and moved to the bathroom. He scrubbed and scrubbed at his teeth, this tongue and his lips. Anything to get the feeling of Connor’s mouth off of his. He gargled with Listerine and pretended that the sting of the mouthwash would burn away every last trace of him. He looked at his puffy red eyes and tear splotched skin in the mirror and could hardly recognize himself. Feeling embarrassed, and dirty, and suffocatingly hot, he needed to fix it. He still had a while until the night manager came on, so anything else that happened until eleven would be on him. 

And he still hadn’t checked on Richie. 

Fuck. Richie.

Eddie took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. He turned the tap back on and splashed cold water on his face in an effort to reground himself. Finally, he toweled off his face and took one last look in the mirror. Better. At least halfway human-looking. 

He headed down the hallway to the kitchen and took one final moment, his hand on the handle, to make sure he was good. Well, relatively speaking. Guiding himself into the room, he searched a moment before zeroing on Richie, on his way out of the walk in to wash his hands. “Hey there. How was the rest of dinner service?” 

“Fine,” Richie answered, scrubbing aggressively at his fingernails with the brush. 

Sensing the clear irritation, Eddie walked toward him and placed his hand gently on his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

Richie shrugged him off with a low, “Nothing.”

Eddie brought his hand up to his own shoulder and eyed the man carefully. “Clearly, that’s not the case.” He furrowed his brow as he attempted appraisal. “Come on, Richie, you can tell me. What’s bothering you?”

Moving around the kitchen, Richie couldn’t be swayed into talking about it. He’d seen more than enough and after everything else… He just didn’t trust himself to answer without yelling, which wasn’t fair. When Eddie approached him, a hand gently placed on his elbow to try and gain his attention, Richie simply scowled and walked away. He headed out of the kitchen and into the dining room. 

Having grown more and more confused with every passing second, Eddie followed. “Okay, is it me?” he asked. For all the response he got, he may as well have been asking the chandelier. “Are you pissed about the dinner thing? Did I not say thank you and tell you that you would be compensated ten times over and call Stan and thank him for loaning me his business partner for the night?” He caught up to him and grabbed his hand. “You didn’t have to if-” 

Though Eddie’s rambling was nothing but grateful, Richie yanked his hand back with an annoyed sneer. That would have been enough to freeze Eddie in his tracks alone. But the disappointed shake of his head and the tears Eddie would have sworn he saw lining his eyes leveled him. 

“Okay, then, what, Richie?” he asked, suddenly feeling incredibly defensive. “I’m not a mind reader and honestly I’m at a loss for what could possibly have happened to get you to this point.” He watched as Richie moved silently to the coat closet to retrieve his jacket and stalked along behind. “Whatever,” he huffed. “Thanks for your help. I guess I’ll see-”

Richie opened the door. His intention was to go through it and be done with the whole fucking night. Still, he turned back for one last look at Eddie. The fact that he seemed genuinely clueless as to what had him angry pissed Richie off endlessly. “You know what kills me?” he laughed dimly, unable to even make eye contact with him.

“I’ve already said no,” Eddie answered, shocked that he’d even bothered to say anything. He had already come to terms with the fact that Richie was going to walk out that door without any explanation, so this was just cruel.

“You seriously don’t know?” he asked incredulously.

“No, I seriously don’t,” he said, voice pitching high in frustration. Richie stared at him for a moment, leaving Eddie more and more flustered with every beat of his heart. “Tell me!”

Richie shook his head and leaned on the door jamb. “I was so sure we were on the same page,” he said quietly, staring at the floor between them.

The men took a few small steps toward each other. Eddie folded his arms across his chest protectively. This felt too much like a break-up and they weren’t even together. “Clearly, we’re not, because I have no-”

“Clearly!” Richie yelped. “I don’t think I’ve kept my intentions hidden, have I?”

Eddie shortened the distance between them, lowering his voice. “Your intentions? What are you-”

Moving once more so that he was mere inches away from Eddie, Richie groaned, “I don’t think I’m a mysterious guy by any stretch of the imagination.”

With a flick to the edge of the brash Hawaiian shirt draped over the clashing band T-Shirt underneath, he laughed. “The wardrobe’s a bit of a head-scratcher, but-”

“I like you, Eddie,” he admitted, quieting the smaller man at once. Now that the words were out there, there was no taking them back. More than that, there was no denying how long that had been the case. “And, I thought you liked me, too. The flirty texts, the wedding, the asking you out on a date-”

“Wait a second,” he protested, pointing at Richie with a smile. “You never said it was a date.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Oh, it was implied.”

“Implied, but you never actually said anything,” Eddie said, his demeanor softening. They were finally getting somewhere. So, why was Richie so mad?

“Fine. Well, either way, I was wrong,” he answered, thudding his head against the solid doorframe.

That took Eddie by surprise. “What?” He had to know that he felt the same way, didn’t he?

Still, he stood his ground. “I was wrong,” he repeated plainly. “I come over here to help you and find you tongue tied with another guy.” He pointed into the lounge area, right where Connor had accosted him. 

He’d seen that. Eddie’s face lost all color. He had it all wrong! He thought back over the moment he’d tried to burn from his brain and couldn’t for the life of him pinpoint when Richie would have been in the room. But that certainly explained it.

Watching as the pieces fell into place, Richie nodded. “Yeah. So, fuck me, I guess, right?”

“That wasn’t-”

He couldn’t believe that, even though he’d seen it with his own eyes, Eddie was going to try to deny it. “That wasn’t what? That wasn’t supposed to be seen by me? That wasn’t me, it was my evil twin? What?”

Eddie reached out and put his hands on Richie’s biceps and shook him a little. “If you would give me a minute, I could explain.” When he pulled his hand away, he noticed the blood still under his fingernails. He’d brushed his teeth. He’d splashed his face. It hadn’t even occurred to him to wash his hands. 

“Explain what?” Richie huffed.

“That was Connor,” Eddie admitted. 

He watched as recognition washed over Richie. “Connor,” he eyed Eddie with disbelief. “Connor, who wanted to do what you did, escape the upbringing you had but it was too late for him, then he wound up working for your dad so he would set you up with him, got you to fall for him, only to find out that he was spying on you for your mom to try and get Edie taken away from you just before she turned eighteen? That Connor?” Eddie nodded the affirmative. He thought that would clarify things. The realization that there was nothing at all for Richie to be concerned about. Instead, it seemed to upset him even more. “Well, that makes it all better, Ed. Really. Truly. Enlightening.”

Realizing that he needed a little more persuading, Eddie shook his head. “If you had stayed and lurked for another 10 seconds, you creep,” he said, nudging his shoulder gently, “you’d have seen me scratch his face, push him off of me, and kick him out.” The sheer confusion on Richie’s face was evident. 

“That wasn’t a kiss,” he said with a shrug, taking a small step back. “That was force.”

Realizing what he meant, Richie’s whole demeanor softened. “What?” he asked. Eddie held up his hand and showed him the caked-on blood under his fingernails. “Eds, I-”

“Don’t Eds me,” he said. He didn’t want an apology. Richie was going on what he saw. He couldn’t blame him for that. But he did have a few things to say. “We are on the same page. What that means, though, is that you have to trust me.” He looked up at Richie, trying to convey what he meant as gently as he could. Then, he smiled. “You have to trust me when I say that there is no one else that I would rather be kissing than the person standing in front of me.” His eyes flitted over Richie’s face, settling on his petal pink lips.

It wasn’t until that moment that it dawned on Richie. Eddie wanted him, too. There was a brief panic, where he thought now might not be the time. After all, he’d just been forcibly kissed by his ex. Still, that felt like a line. And if that was his window, Richie was sure as shit not going to miss it. 

He leaned in, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. He ran his hands up from his waist to his sides and pulled him closer. Eddie moved against him until there was just the slightest distance between them. He brushed a fallen hair from in front of Eddie’s eyes and looked at him, so softly.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked fondly, hoping that he was getting the right impression. He backed away, trying to get a better look at him. 

Richie sighed. “Will you just stand still?” he said, the slightest trace of a laugh edging in as he realized just how much he had his work cut out for him. 

Finally, he leaned forward and brought his lips to Eddie’s. The shorter man raised onto his toes, melting into the kiss. When Richie broke the kiss, stunned by the fact that he’d actually done it- he’d kissed Eddie!- he was even more shocked to find the same man moving toward him for more. “What are you doing?” he asked, breathless.

Smiling, he could think of nothing more than to repeat Richie’s sentiment back to him. “Will you just stand still?” He brought his hands up to Richie’s neck and pulled him down into a much deeper kiss. Richie’s hands moved to Eddie’s back instinctively, as if they’d done it a thousand times before. 

When Eddie and Richie finally separated, Eddie rested his cheek against Richie’s chest. The phone at the front desk rang and he fought every impulse in his body telling him to let it ring. Richie pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, then groaned, begrudgingly giving in to his grown-up responsibilities. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be smut. Next time. Prepare yourselves.


	3. must be time i fell down to a place i didn't know too well

All his life, Eddie had been a terrible sleeper. The coffee addiction had started even before Edie came into the picture. He’d toss and turn all night about something his mother thought might be wrong with him. It would blossom and fester into the worst-case scenario and before he knew it, his alarm would be ringing. And this was before WebMD and Google!

As an adult, the problems became more acute. He had more and more to worry about, but he had the knowledge to back it up. Was that leaking tap in 2b literally dripping money down the drain? Was Edie adjusting well to dorm life? If he didn’t do something about the check engine light in his car, was it going to explode the next time he started it? Was he putting enough of his check into his 401K to be able to live comfortably when he retired- if he retired? Would he ever be able to afford retirement, period? Add to that an unwanted kiss and the confusion of a very, desperately wanted one with just a sprinkle of fussy guests, and there’s the recipe for a horrible sleep and a very Edgy Eddie. 

Fortunately for him, edgy did not necessarily mean grumpy. It would just be one of those days. Staring in the bathroom mirror after he brushed his teeth, he’d resigned to it. The thing he was least looking forward to was the discussion with his best friend and business partner. 

Even after hours lost to the thought of the subject, he couldn’t settle his nerves. It was a huge step and everything mattered so much. For someone who talked more than most people he’d ever met, he couldn’t find the words to express how he felt. 

When Eddie appeared at work that morning, the first place he went was to the kitchen for a cup of coffee as usual. He got no further than the center island before Ben’s voice carried out of the walk-in. “So! I heard that dinner last night went swimmingly,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. There was something in his best friend’s tone that made it obvious that, no matter how he tried to contradict it, he didn’t actually mean the dinner service. 

Smiling broadly, he wiped his hands on his apron and sat down at the island. “Bev swung by The Bridge to grab dinner for us after I was banished from my home kitchen as well.” Eddie batted his eyes innocently, despite the fact that Ben knew damn well that that was his fault, too. He had been on the phone with Bev when Ben got home, after all. Stubborn as he was, he was still able to admit that Eddie was right. But, he still had to mention his own gossip. “Stan said that Richie got a booty-call and high tailed it for here as quickly as possible. Should I be threatened?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and leaned on the counter.

“What?” Eddie laughed. “No. No one could ever-”

Feigning a delicately offended nature, he sniffled. “I know how new relationships are and it would be nice if my best friend didn’t start to forget about me-” His act dropped immediately as he reached across the table and shook Eddie roughly by his shoulders, “because he’s finally opened his eyes and realized he’s been sleeping on his soulmate for ages!”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He pulled back, still laughing. “Excuse me?” He knew what Ben was insinuating, but he certainly wasn’t going to let him get away with it without saying it outright.

“Richie? You?” he said, picking up two of the carrots he’d set out in preparation for his mirepoix and brought them together demonstratively. “Kissy-kissy, smoochy-smoochy.”

That, he hadn’t expected. He was sure that he’d have assumed he’d have called Richie, even if Stan hadn’t mentioned it to Bev. He was also pretty sure, however, that Stan was loyal to a fault and would never have gossiped about Richie’s love life to Ben as much as he was sure that he’d never have to worry about that with Ben. “Okay, how in the hell do you know that? The Bridge was closed by the time he left here,” he said, genuinely surprised.

Ben’s face lit up. “I KNEW IT! I was right!” he laughed, throwing a fist in the air. “Bev and Stan each owe me $20.” Realizing he’d been played, Eddie slunk into the stool beside him. “What Stan actually said was that you called and asked for Richie’s help and that Richie went right over. That’s it,” he summarized, knocking his shoulder against his friend’s. “I knew it was gonna happen. I knew you would make your move. So, how was it?”

Feeling suddenly sheepish, Eddie shook his head. “Ben, you know you’re married, right?” 

Even so, that didn’t mean that his highly romantic nature had subsided. Ben was, and would forever be, a true lover of love and as such always wanted all of the details. “I know, but-”

Realizing that his friend was undeterred, Eddie added, “And, you are straight, are you  not?” Ben rolled his eyes and nodded. “Why do you want to hear about-”

“Because!” he exclaimed. Ben couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why Eddie didn’t seem thrilled. Ben was thrilled for them! “For years, I’ve watched you go all doe-eyed over Richie. I’ve listened as you whined about every date he’s gone on. I’ve seen him get all pissy when you have your occasional man.” That stung a little. Eddie knew his partners were infrequent, but he was a single dad. It wasn’t like he was actively avoiding it. Ben didn’t seem to notice. In actuality, he was laughing to himself, recalling something different entirely. “He and I actually took a little trip to Portland and dumped sugar in that douchebag that was spying on you for your mom’s gas tank.”

“Connor?” Eddie asked. His heart raced. Why had no one told him about the apparent direct action everyone seemed to have taken with regards to his ex? It was almost flattering- in a twisted, not entirely above board kind of way. He had tried to tell himself that he harbored no ill-wishes, but after the night prior all bets were off.

Ben hummed a laugh. “Yeah, him. The prick,” he scoffed as he retrieved a knife to finish up his prep. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how quiet Eddie had grown. “What?”

It took a moment for Eddie to shake himself from his thoughts. “Nothing. Just…” He took a deep breath for his own stability. “He was here last night.”

“We’ve established that,” Ben said with a roll of his eyes, gesturing for Eddie to go on with his story.

“No, not Richie. Connor,” Eddie corrected.

The reaction wasn’t immediate, but when Ben’s brain finally digested the information he’d received, he nearly chopped the tip of his finger off. “What?” he asked, putting the knife down and moving around to Eddie.

“Yep. Apparently, after I told my father what Connor and Sonia were up too, he fired him. So, he works for Paneer & Weisz, now,” he said. He tried to keep his tone as even as he could but he could tell that, no matter how calm he tried to sound, Ben would see right through him.

As expected, Ben gasped a scandalized, “No!”

Eddie got up and went to finally procure his coffee. “Mhm. He apologized. He tried to get me to sleep with him,” he said, with the same amount of heft with which he’d have said that someone cut him off in traffic that morning.

“Asshole,” Ben scoffed. 

He nodded. That was, indeed, an understatement. Not looking away from the coffee pot, he added quietly. “He kissed me.”

“What?” Ben moved from the counter and closer to his friend. It was clear from the way that Eddie was gripping the countertop that he was still shaken by it.

“Richie saw,” he added with a sad shake of his head. He drummed his fingers lightly and shifted his weight. 

“No!”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing humorlessly. “But, it’s fine, obviously. I mean, I explained it to him. Told him that if this whatever was going to work, that he needed to trust me. Then, Richie kissed me an-”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Richie kissed you.”

Without missing a beat, Eddie turned to his friend and pressed his hand to his forehead, checking for a fever. “Are you okay? We’ve gone-”

“As in he made the first move?” he clarified, shoving his hand from his face with a mildly amused, “Stop.”

“No,” he answered reflexively. “Well, I guess. I mean, I put the ball in his court. More precisely, I think I threw the ball directly at his head, but I said that there is ‘no one else I’d rather be kissing’ than him.” He stopped, lips tingling in remembrance of that so-recent activity, and smiled. “Then, he did.”

Ben was impressed. “Good for him,” he said with a nod.

“I just said-”

“That Richie made the first move,” he said simply before Eddie had a chance to try to change his story. “I never would have thought he had it in him.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t think that Richie wanted to. Obviously. What Ben meant, however, was that he was so sure that Richie would forever be afraid of overstepping when it came to Eddie. Eddie had his life, he had his daughter, he had his job, it was clear that he was doing just fine without a man. As far as Ben could discern, Richie was the type of guy who wanted to be wanted, and without Eddie telling him it was okay, he would never.

Eddie threw his hands in the air. “I made the first move! I told him to kiss me!” This was suddenly nonnegotiable to Eddie. He made the first move. He may not have initiated the kiss, but he made the first move.

Except that Richie had started the conversation. Except that Richie had asked him out. Except that Richie had suggested going to the wedding.

As he watched his friend come to grips with the fact that he had, indeed, not made the first move, Ben verbalized it clearly. “No. If you said it like you told me you did, you gave him the opening and he took it. He made the first move. You told him it was okay and he did.” He leaned against the counter with his elbows and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Consent is sexy.”

“Consent is sexy?” Eddie laughed, giving him a shove and moving toward the phone to check the answering machine. “You need to stop hanging out with your wife so much. Consent is not sexy. It’s mandatory.” Especially after last night. Yeah, consent was a big sticking point. 

Ben, however, didn’t seem moved by his contests. “Well…” He looked like he was pondering something, and Eddie really didn’t want to know what.

As he turned to walk away, Ben launched himself at Eddie, arms and legs wrapped around him awkwardly. “I’m so happy for you, he screeched.

Try as he might, Eddie was unable to shirk him. “I didn’t consent to this,” he groaned.

With his point proven, Ben released him with a calm, “And I’m stopping. See?” He said, circling around him before backing away innocently. “I instantly got like 12% hotter.”

Realizing where this was headed if he kept walking backward without watching his step, Eddie grabbed him by the hands. “That’s because you’re 12% closer to the stove, asshole,” he warned playfully, shoving him back toward his spot at the counter.

“So, how was it?” he asked, still not pleased with the information from his friend.

Eddie laughed. “How was what? The kiss?” It was just a kiss, he thought. Sure, it was Richie, so it was warm and he could tell that his hands were trembling, especially considering that he’d been so angry just before. And, okay, maybe he had felt the kiss in his knees. 

But just a kiss. 

What he hoped would be the first and second of many, many more.

Still, Ben wanted all of the details. Even, so it seemed, ones that didn’t exactly exist. “And everything else!” 

“There was nothing else. It was just a kiss,” he reiterated. Still, the slightest trace of a smile played on his lips as he replayed the kiss over.

_ “Just-”  _ Ben stammered, then folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t buy it for a second. “You didn’t sleep together? There are no surfaces I need to beware of?” He gestured around the room, grimacing at the table cautiously. 

Eddie laughed and shook his head. No. We haven’t even gone on a date, Ben.” He sat down near the corner of the table and allowed the emotions he’d been hiding to consume him. “It was just a kiss.”

“Yeah, just a kiss,” he said sarcastically. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes, and dropped it for all of thirty seconds. “I always imagined it would be something like the scene in Don’t Look Now.”

Faux-scandalized, Eddie clutched his imaginary pearls. “A horror movie? Jesus. Thanks, buddy,” he gave him a thump on the shoulder and headed for the door. “Why are you imagining my sex life, or lack thereof, anyway.”

“Oh, come on. Nothing?” Ben whined, following after him. They always talked about this type of stuff. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy with Bev- he was more than happy. She was his person- but they had been together since they were thirteen. He’d never even looked at another woman. He’d never even really thought about it. However, that didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy hearing Eddie’s stories. “Not even a little under the clothes action? Two good looking guys? I just always assumed-”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” he laughed over his shoulder, heading to the front desk. “Batting for my team now?”

“Okay, alright, just-” he sighed, leaning against the wall, feeling more than a little put out. Worse than that, he was worried what the lack of details might say. Eddie was always more than willing to divulge. “Why do you not seem happy?”

Eddie groaned as he logged into the reservations server, even though he knew that they had no check-ins for the day. “Because my best friend is making assumptions about my sex life,” he answered simply.

With a sigh, Ben rolled his eyes again, fearing that they may fall out of his head if he kept doing it. He wondered if Stan felt the same way for all the eye-rolling he did at Richie. “It’s not like I asked if he bent you over a table or threw you down on the-”

“Enough! God!” Eddie was mortified. If any customer had heard that, he’d have thrown himself into the old cistern downstairs and let whatever type of horrors lied down there eat him alive. 

Ben circled the desk and leaned down so that he was eye level to Eddie. “You know as well as I do that this is a fairly PG conversation compared to the ones we’ve had before.” 

That was true. Eddie could remember one specific night, just before Bev had given birth to their first kid, telling Ben in colorful detail about the strange adaptations he’d had to make to their sex life as Myra got closer to having Edie. Which led to a strange conversation about all of the craziest positions he’d found himself in. Considering that, he still managed to hold his ground. “This is different,” he whined. They weren’t talking about bruised tailbones from falling in the shower or bite marks on inner thighs because he thought he’d heard something. 

It didn’t seem that far off to Ben. “Why?” he pressed.

Eddie thought it over. This was the part he'd been dreading. He had to verbalize it. “It’s not hypothetical,” he started. “It’s not a fantasy. It’s not some far off tale from the back of my head about some past lover.” Ben followed his stream of consciousness with a vested interest. Eddie, however, couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. “It’s real and it’s now and it hasn’t happened but it could and I don’t know how to handle that right now.” He sighed, then looked down at his hands before starting to pace. “It’s Richie. I know you think I’ve been in love with him for years. Even my father said it to me the first time he met Richie,” he said, beginning to gesture wildly as he so often did when he let himself get worked up, “but I never let myself notice it because he’s Richie. I never thought…” He stopped, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

It finally clicked. He had seen the types of people Richie had dated over the years. Most recently, the fast-talking lawyer from Hartford who came into The Bridge in the exact same pair of running shorts Eddie wore but filled them out so much better, in Eddie’s mind, with a fuller bulge and firmer ass. There was the photographer who broke his heart when she left for Africa, then again when she came back and managed to get him to let her in, only to leave. Richie never told him why, but he couldn’t help but figure that it was a stupid reason. Apparently, there had also been a high school flame that had been serious enough that it was the stuff of town legend. Stan had given him some information about them and it was easy to tell that Stan held quite a grudge toward them for some reason, but he’d never pressed for details, but they were apparently wild and free-spirited and wildly independent. They weren’t looking for the same things that Richie was, but that didn’t change that they’d inexcusably left without a trace. All of these people were so vastly different and cool and so perfect for Richie and he, as far as he could see, had nothing in common with any of them. 

He was argumentative and talked too much, especially when he knew he was right. He was focused on his job and had been focused on his kid and not willing to settle. Most of all, he was absolutely blind to the ways in which he fit into the pattern.

Suddenly, so many things clicked into place. “I never thought he would want me.”

Ben was shocked by his statement. “Come on,” he said gently, moving directly in front of his friend and putting his hands on his shoulders. “This is a good thing,” he said, shaking him a little.

Smiling as he nodded, Eddie couldn’t help himself. “It is. I just…”

“What, Eddie?”

He sighed. He hadn’t intended on having this conversation, but he had known that if Ben knew, it would get there. “It’s just weird. It’s new,” he summarised, once again shoving his hands down into his pockets. “A lot of emotions.” 

What he didn’t want to say was that he was afraid. Edie had, indeed, freaked him out a little. The town was small and freakishly close. Richie was one of his best friends. If something were to happen, there would be no going back. There were images of town hall meetings with Bev divvying people up into teams and giving flags to businesses that were on his side or Richie’s. He was terrified of the end before it had even begun. 

But Ben wasn’t so convinced. There was more that Eddie wasn’t telling him and he was more than practiced in The Art Of Diversion As Practiced By Edward F. Kaspbrak. It didn’t really matter, he supposed. Eddie would tell him when he was ready, if it really mattered.

Still, there was one thing he needed to know above all else. “You are happy, right?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” Eddie answered, moving back to the desk.

Ben followed and leaned against the wall. “And he knows that right?” If there was one thing of which he was absolutely certain, it was imperative that people know how you feel. Whether it was a poem, an action, or just saying it point-blank, the only way to know that you were on the same page was to tell people.

Stopped dead in his tracks, Eddie ran over the events immediately following the kiss in his mind. They’d laughed. Richie had taken his hand. They’d gotten interrupted. Needy patrons and phone calls seemed to have it out for them, so Richie went home to get some sleep. Eventually, Eddie went home, too, and went straight to bed. Richie had texted him goodnight an hour before and he didn’t want to risk waking him up. He texted Richie good morning when he woke up, but it was right in the middle of breakfast and he knew that Richie didn’t usually bring his cell phone downstairs. 

“Well, we didn’t really get a chance to talk about it last night because 202 started screaming about the temperature again at the same time that 311 decided that he needed to know every gentleman’s club between here and Boston and wouldn’t just fucking Google it, and I kept getting these 2-second phone calls from Bill, which leads me to believe that his phone is probably somewhere in the sheets of their hotel room because at one point I know I heard the sounds of a marriage being consummated and-” he rambled as Ben nodded skeptically. Trying to convince himself, Eddie nodded, “Yeah, he knows, though. He has to know,” he pressed a few keys on the computer, then turned to his friend, realizing that it may not have been the case. “Oh God, I hope he knows.”

Ben chuckled low. “Maybe. Or, maybe you could tell him just to make sure.” He pointed at Eddie’s phone on the desk and nodded to it. 

As if on cue, it lit up bright blue with a picture of Richie flipping off the camera with pursed lips as though he’d blown a kiss. It was from months earlier, when Eddie’d finally upgraded to an iPhone from his old Motorola brick. Eddie smiled at the image, remembering and his heart fluttered. 

A gleam of mischief painted Ben’s eyes bright. He picked the device up and waved it at his friend. “Oooooohhh!!! Richie and Eddie sitting in a-”

“Shut up, Ben!” Eddie snatched it away easily enough. Amid the disgusting, wet kissing noises, he took a deep breath to center himself and managed a quick, “Hello?”

On the other end, Richie sounded like he was in the middle of an avalanche of metal trash cans during a thunderstorm. “Eddie?” he asked, startled by a clash.

Still, Eddie couldn’t help but beam. “Richie, hi!” Ben mimicked him, batting his eyes and feigning a swoon, then went back to his noises. “I swear to God, Ben, I will gut you with your own filet knife," he hissed, pressing the phone into his shoulder.

Ben barked a laugh. "You wouldn’t even know-"

Through the phone, Eddie heard Richie stage whisper, "It’s the one with the really long, skinny blade that curves up into a point."

With one side of his mouth creeping up into a sly smile, Eddie answered, "Skinny, long, blade curves up for maximum carnage." He prodded his fingers into his friend's stomach. 

Seizing the opportunity and Eddie's phone, Ben groaned, "Eyes on your own paper, Tozier." He paused for a moment, then added, "Also, if you hurt-"

"Ben!" Eddie yelped. He clamped his hand over Ben's mouth frantically. Unfortunately, that wasn't the type of thing that would deter him. Instead, he licked the inside of Eddie’s palm. He grimaced, but Ben was like a brother to him. It would take more than that to make him move his hand. More like Ben clamping his teeth down on the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. "Ow! Asshole!" he chirped.

Smiling through his threats, Ben called into his own cupped hands. “Hurt my best friend, you end up on the carving station, you understand? Think over what a serrated will do to more delicate-” 

Eddie gave him a gentle shove and started trudging upstairs, down the hallway. “Enough, Ben, thank you for your input,” he teased over his shoulder as he walked. “I’m sorry about him. I think his blood sugar’s low. He’s been a little loopy today,” he laughed tensely, hoping that Richie didn’t question it too much.

“It’s fine. I can handle the threats,” Richie said with a good nature chuckle. Eddie noted that he, too, seemed a little off. “So, hi.”

The cacophony of diner sounds faded, and Eddie, having tucked himself inside the first door he knew to be free, sat on the floor. “Hi,” he answered again. “Where are you right now?” It’s suddenly so much quieter.”

There was a pause. Richie debated whether or not he should mention it. He supposed it didn’t matter and he could certainly take a little ribbing for it either way. “Hiding in the pantry.”

“Interesting choice,” Eddie said, nodding as he ran his hands over the stack of clean fluffy towels on the shelf across from him. “I’m in the linen closet.” Truthfully, Eddie had hidden in there many times over the years. Sometimes, when he got overwhelmed, he’d just fold and refold the stacks, giving him something small and manageable to do with his hands when everything else seemed out of control. He plucked a hand towel and a bath towel from the shelf and began fiddling with them. He laid the bath towel flat on the floor and began rolling it into an oblong triangle.

Richie laughed at the image of two grown men sitting on the floor in closets across town from one another just so that they could talk to one another. “That doesn’t sound like a good sign for either of us.”

He rolled his eyes before realizing that Richie couldn’t actually see that. “Oh, stop,” he said. “You say that like a pantry isn’t just a food closet.”

He had actually never thought of it that way before. He straightened his legs out so that his feet were resting flat on the opposing wall, tapping them nervously. “Okay, so we kiss and we both go scrambling for closets. What does that say?” he said with a dry laugh.

The line was silent for a moment. Eddie smiled bashfully, heat returning to his cheeks. He grabbed the hand towel and began twisting and rolling it from the ends. “So, you remember that, huh?” he asked quietly.

“I do.” Richie’s voice was low, suggestive. It was easier to mask the butterflies that way. “I was starting to wonder if you did.”

Eddie stacked the towels on top of one another and started playing with the corners, creating a head and feet for his creation. “Indeed, I do,” he admitted. “I’m sorry things got so busy last night. I never really got a chance to say-”

Staring down at his right knee trying to focus on something that was not ‘oh here it comes, he regrets it and you’ve fucked it up again, Trashmouth’ (What is that? Is that blood? Or tomato? He scratched at it and then smelled it. Strawberry jelly? How had that gotten there? Had it been there since…), he cut him off with a short, “Look, if you’d rather forget it ever happened-”

“Woah, what?” Eddie balked, hands stilled in shock. “I don’t want to forget it ever happened. That’s not what I was going to say at all!” When the line remained silent and he was sure that Richie wasn’t going to interrupt again, he added for emphasis, “That was a seriously great kiss.”

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed. He smiled and didn’t notice that his legs had stopped jittering. 

“If one of us had been under a spell or something, there would have been serious, life-altering consequences,” Eddie joked, reaching down and petting the terrycloth shell of his new turtle friend, “and probably a pretty pissed off queen.”

This calmed Richie completely. “Okay,” he said when he was finally ready to hear the rest of what he had interrupted.

“Okay. So, as I was saying…” He paused, steeling his nerves. He was comfortable enough with Richie and where they stood after last night just to say, “I’m really glad we’re finally doing this.”

Richie blushed, bringing his hand to his cheek to stave off the heat. “Me too,” he answered. Both parties were silent for a while, each too lost in their own thoughts to realize that they hadn’t said anything. Eventually, the silence was broken “I was wondering if, maybe, instead of a movie, you wanted to go for a more date-like date. Where we can actually enjoy each other’s company and not get thrown out of a movie theatre for talking and potentially throwing things?”

That much was true. They had actually been banned from the theatre in Derry for a period of time some years prior. Bill and Mike had just started dating, but wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t change the dynamics of their friendships as well, so they’d invited everyone, including Edie, to see a movie and go for ice cream afterward. They’d decided on Bridge to Terabithia, knowing that it would irritate Eddie, who’d been stuck in a loop of having to read it to Edie every night for three years straight. He’d been worried about what that said about his daughter’s mental health, but he wasn’t really going to challenge her over it, especially since they’d made it their goal to read through every book on her school’s banned books list so he had started it. It didn’t take long, though, for Eddie to remember just why the book had pissed him off when he was little and moreover as a parent. Richie was always down for a good scathing commentary battle, so from the end of the row, they started. Over and over, they snarked back and forth at each other. 

It was all well and good until the little boy decided that he wasn’t going to tell anyone where he was going. Suddenly, all of the parental energy in Eddie bubbled to a head and he threw a fistful of popcorn at the screen.

The thing about throwing popcorn at characters in movies is that the projectile never hit them. They never get the lesson you’re trying to teach. Instead, the popcorn rains down on the heads of the asshole mechanics from down the street who were trying to win over two girls that were too young for them anyway. Eddie blanched, knowing that one of them had a serious problem with his existence, especially as a gay man and, apparently, as a good dad, neither of which were his favorite types of people. The other just seemed to go along with the vitriol. 

Thinking fast on his feet, Richie unlidded his soda and screamed out in terror, launching the cup in the air and right at the men. Eddie shot him a grateful look, but immediately took Edie by the hand and booked it out of the theatre. Richie followed, the rest of the group behind, hot on their heels asking repeatedly what had happened. 

By the time they rounded the corner, the jerks were waiting, having come out the back door. Eddie shoved Edie behind him and Bill closed the gap behind her, Ben and Bev on either side. Richie, in the front, laid out quip after quip, coming right back at their attacks with words that, likely, went straight over their heads. 

Eventually, the manager of the movie theater came out and broke up what was edging toward a brawl, banning all involved until they could “act like grownups.” They weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea, but it did make their trip to the ice cream shop a little more humorous. It was interesting, Stan pointed out, that Edie was the most adult of all of them, considering that the movie was picked by her, for her benefit, and she had been totally cool with getting disrupted. 

Little did he know that she’d picked it just for the audience participation factor, knowing it would rile Eddie up. It was far more exciting than an adaptation of her favorite childhood book that was likely to just disappoint her anyway. Secretly, the most surprising part of it was how right she felt sandwiched between her dad and Richie. Not so secretly, however, was the ease of access the central location provided for stealing a bite of everyone’s ice cream. Eventually, the ensuing spoon sword fight between Edie, Bev, and Stan’s new girlfriend, Patty, revoked her grown-up title. Eddie smiled at his daughter proudly. 

But now that they were allowed back into the theatre, Eddie wasn’t particularly keen on having the privilege stripped again. Besides, a quiet night out was a better first date anyway, even if he did already know Richie well. “I’d like that,” he admitted, rendering the movie date postponed.

“Good,” Richie smiled, hoisting himself up off the floor. “So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7?” he asked, dusting away the crumbs of jelly from his pants and hesitating.

Eddie buried his face in his hands. “Sounds good,” he agreed. The couple said their goodbyes and hung up. Eddie waited a moment, picked up his towel turtle and clutched it to his chest. Then, he let out a little scream, muffling it in the terrycloth. Eventually, he wandered down to the front desk, bringing his turtle friend with him as a friendly little welcome for any new guests. 

The day that followed that phone call was the longest of Eddie’s life since those that led to Edie’s debut performance. The rest of his workday took a week. When he got home, Edie used him as a living doll, styling him up and down for his date. After she’d had him try on his whole closed and, what felt like half of hers, it was hardly 7. They ordered a pizza that took a year to get there before tuning in for a lifetime’s worth of TV they were still catching up on since Edie’d been away. Eventually, around midnight, on the bicentennial anniversary of Eddie’s return from work, he went to bed. Bed, yes, but there was little sleep to be had. Instead, his brain decided that that was the ideal time to replay every bad moment from every failed relationship he’d ever had, then all of the ways the date could go wrong. Then all the ways the date could go right but the relationship that followed could crash and burn. By the time his brain finally shut down, it was nearly 3:30 am. 

At least by the time he woke up, there would be less than 12 more hours. 

Ben spent the majority of that time doing his best to gas Eddie up, but there was very little to be helped. While he certainly appreciated the gesture, his brain had the sneaking tendency to invert every compliment. Where one person might see caring, Eddie saw soft. Where Ben mentioned handsome and sleight of frame, Eddie’s brain filled in feminine. Determined meant pushy, driven meant that he spent too much time at work and not enough time with his partners. Devoted, though- Devoted was Ben’s sweet and kind way of saying that he was going to smother everyone he cared about in the same way his mother did. 

Eventually, knowing his own mind, Eddie decided to lock himself away in the office to crunch some numbers before heading out for the day. Ben knew that, usually, this was Eddie-speak for “I’m going to have an anxiety attack and need to step away for a while. Ben tossed him a bottle of water and one of the complementary cookie packs he made as a Check Out Gift for the guests to him, just in case. 

Eddie smiled and nodded his thanks before vanishing into the office. At least that took a solid hour off of his waiting in the blink of an eye. By 5 pm, he was on his way out the door and home to shower, prep for anything that may occur on this date, and change.

He got himself ready and went to wait in the living room. He paced and paced. “What the hell am I nervous about?” he thought. “It’s Richie. I know Richie. Richie is good and kind and safe and gorgeous and-”

Slam.

A car door shut outside. Showtime. Eddie rushed to the porch, quickly locking the door behind him and made his way down the steps. Just the mere sight of Richie centered him so much that he could hardly remember what he’d been nervous about. 

“Hi. You look…” Richie trailed off, lost in thought at the sight of Eddie in the moonlight, in painted-on jeans and a tight maroon dress shirt. He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. “Stunning,” he settled on when his vocabulary finally returned to him. Richie felt thoroughly underwhelming, his grey cords a little too short, his black T under a pastel pink and green Hawaiian shirt. He felt vaguely like he should have been working at the skateboard shop in the mall, especially with his thick black glasses and heavy, rounded sneakers. “I was going to knock and everything.”

  
Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Oh,” he said, realizing suddenly that that was a thing people did when they picked up a date. He gestured back to the door and smiled warmly. “Do you want me to-”

He paused. “No,” Richie said, realizing how stupid that would sound. Eddie moved closer to him and they both moved to the passenger side of Richie’s truck. Their hands knocked against each other as they both reached for the handle. 

When it dawned on him what was happening, Eddie yanked his hand back and chuckled. “We’ll get better at this part,” he assured, leaning in to kiss Richie on the cheek before he climbed in. When Richie finally joined him in the cab of the truck, he added, “I’m really glad we’re doing this.

Richie considered him carefully. He forced down the nerves that threatened to eat him whole. “Me too,” he agreed. They chatted happily the whole ride to the restaurant in the next town over. Richie knew the owners and it was, so he’d claimed, his version of The Bridge. He wanted someplace familiar, but not where everyone would know them, he’d explained. 

Eddie appreciated that. He wanted more than anything to have some time to really process the early stages of their relationship away from the busybodies of their town. That was the trouble with towns like Derry; when everybody knows everybody, everybody thinks they have to know everything about everybody, too. Still, when they reached the restaurant and Richie kissed his hand as he helped him out of the truck, then kept one hand on the small of his back as he ushered him through the front door, he wanted to shout from the rooftops. He wanted everyone to know that Richie Tozier was, indeed, perfect. 

It was a little strange to Eddie, the way that Richie just nodded at the hostess and walked them to a private table in the corner in the back. There was a bouquet of yellow daisies in the center as well as a carafe of coffee with two cups. Richie took Eddie’s jacket and hung it up on the nearby coat rack and Eddie slid into the booth. By the time Richie finally settled in, a waitress had come by with bread and a bottle of champagne, compliments of the establishment. Eddie leaned in close and let his hand fall most of the way to Richie’s, giving him the opportunity to take it, which he would never pass up. 

“Okay, Richie, is this a mafia thing? I mean, I’m down for whatever, but you have to let me know the plan.” Richie laughed at his frantic little rant and shook his head. “Are we going to have to whack someone before the appetizers or-”

Richie rolled his eyes and responded, “I’ve fulfilled my whacking quota for the week.” Immediately, his face flushed. He hadn’t meant to go there so early. He hadn’t. Sure, he was quick with a dirty joke, but that was out of line.

Jarring him from his thoughts, Eddie answered, “Guess I’ll have to take over for that, huh?” with a playful smirk.

This emboldened, flirty Eddie was not something Richie had expected. He’d hoped, maybe, down the line. It wasn’t really surprising, however. They weren’t strangers. It wasn’t even technically their first date if the wedding was to be counted. Still, he fumbled to come up with a response that wasn’t too far. “It’s- I-” he stammered.

Pride flowed through Eddie. He’d never managed to fluster Richie before. He’d always been the one holding the bomb, as it were. “Easy, Richie. Don’t blow a gasket. I’m just messing with you,” Eddie said gently, rubbing his thumb over Richie’s. 

Time passed, and all too soon, they were through their entrees, waiting for dessert. Eddie had moved nearer to Richie, one foot tracing lightly up his leg under the table as they talked. Eventually, though, he reached a question that had been bothering him for a while. He hated that he couldn’t come up with an answer. He felt like he should have known. “Do you remember the first time we met?” he asked.

Richie nearly drowned in his water glass. “What?” he managed to cough out.

“You’ve been such a strong, ambient presence in my life for what feels like forever,” Eddie explained, still watching surreptitiously to make sure his breathing leveled out, “but I can’t, for the life of me, pinpoint it.” Richie simply blinked at him, so he shook his head and looked down nervously. “It had to have been at The Bridge-”

Of course, Richie remembered it. How could he not? He cleared his throat and began absently picking at his napkin. “It was. It was The Bridge.” Eddie stared at him curiously. “It was breakfast. It was crazy crowded. And, this person-”

Eddie placed one playfully innocent finger to his own chest and mouthed “Me?”

Laughing at the theatrics, Richie pursed his lips. If he didn’t remember, he was going to have to wait for it. “This  _ nutjob  _ comes running into the joint going through some serious caffeine D.T.’s-”

“It  _ was  _ me!” he gasped, smiling broadly.

His fingers drummed at the edge of the table. He feigned annoyance. “This guy just about pushes a perfectly lovely young lady out of the way, jumps the line, begging for coffee. I turn around and tell him to wait his turn.” Eddie laughed at that and edged up against Richie, lacing their fingers together. “So, he starts following me around, talking a mile a minute about God knows what, so I turn around, look him dead in the eye, tell him he’s being annoying. Sit down, shut up, I’ll get to him when I get to him.”

Eyebrows arched high, Eddie nods. “I’ll bet he took that really well. He sounds like a delight,” he says, knowing what a morning like that would elicit if someone were keeping him from his caffeine.

Richie nodded; a nonverbal “No shit, Sherlock.” He sighed and looked at Eddie carefully. “He asked me what my birthday was. I wouldn’t tell him. So, he kept following me around and asking. Finally, I caved. He starts leafing through the paper, pulls out a pen, writes something and rips it out and hands it to me.”

There was a moment where Eddie thought that was the end of the story. Richie was lost in thought, eyes flitting over Eddie, taking him in. He was about to prompt him to continue when Richie reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping the leather back and forth in his hand. “Under Pisces, he wrote “You will meet an annoying man today. Give him coffee and he will go away.” So, I gave him coffee.”

“But he didn’t go away,” Eddie said with a soft smile. He knew the answer well enough.

Richie shook his head. “Instead, he told me to hold on to that horoscope. That it might bring me luck someday.” He flipped his wallet open on the table. Tucked into the space behind his driver’s license was a yellowed scrap of newspaper. On one side were the movie times, Lost In Translation and Something’s Gotta Give, which seemed to be fair. On the other, Eddie’s neat, angled penmanship scrawled out exactly what Richie claimed. 

It also had the real Pisces horoscope, which was innocuous in nature- Be on the look out today. Something will be set in motion today that will change your life. Just wait, Pisces. Someday, you’ll look back on all of this with the wisdom of years and it will be clear. Lucky numbers: 8, 27, 35

At a seldom achieved loss for words, Eddie just stared down at the words in his hand. Suddenly, it was like pieces of the last eight years clicked into place. Shared smiles. Excited greetings. Small presents just because it made them think of the other. It all made sense. How had he been so blind? “Well, man, I will say anything for a cup of coffee, huh,” he breathed, when he finally found his words. Richie laughed and adjusted his glasses, nodding. It wasn’t just that. They both knew it. “I can’t believe you kept this. You kept this in your wallet?” Eddie asked, his mind still reeling.

“For eight years,” Richie nodded.

Eddie couldn’t believe it. He shook his head, hardly allowing his voice above a whisper. “Eight years…” 

Taking in the full sight of his date, Eddie still couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. This was the same man who’d bid on his picnic basket to save him from going on a date with Derry’s creepy pharmacist. The same Richie who’d come to Edie’s high school graduation and cried alongside him, Bev, and Ben, while Myra had completely ignored the invitation- the girl’s own mother. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers along his strong jawline just because he could. There were so many things, now, that he’d swept under the rug over the years that he’d wanted to do, but never let himself. That wasn’t going to happen anymore. 

Though Eddie’s expression was mostly unreadable, Richie knew one thing for sure, he had to kiss him. There was no way he was waiting for a front porch kiss. Not with Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes considering him so tenderly. He leaned in and made his move. He felt Eddie’s mouth perk up into a smile as their lips met briefly. “Eddie, this…” He started talking while they were still too close. He couldn’t concentrate when he was still so near. He pulled back and took one of Eddie’s hands between his. He looked down at their clasped digits, amazed at how they fit just so- he’d never been with anyone who’s hand felt so right in his. “I want you to know,” he gestured between them, and said, “This. This thing we’re doing, here. Whatever it is, I’m in. I’m all in.”

Eddie’s heart sped up, once again realizing that neither of them had put a title on what they were. But that- that meant something big. That meant relationship. That meant real. 

In the space left by Eddie’s silence, Richie began to panic. “Does that scare you?” he asked, swallowing thickly. Eddie simply shook his head and leaned in to kiss away any doubt. Eddie may have had a lot of fears, especially about dating, but for Richie he could be brave.

Eventually, they wrapped up their meal and headed for the door. Richie Helped Eddie out of the booth, smiling. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He nodded at the doggy bag on the table, reminding Eddie of its presence. “Leave the gun, take the cannoli,” he referenced in a thick, Italian accent.

Eddie laughed, taking the bag in one hand and sliding the other around Richie’s waist. He leaned into his side, enjoying his warmth as they exited the warm restaurant into the cool night air.

They talked as they drove, feeling none of the earlier timidness they’d experienced on the way out. As they approached the exit for Derry, Eddie moved in closer and placed his hand on his date’s thigh. “Hey, Richie?” he asked quietly.

“Hey, Eddie?” Richie answered, glancing up into his rearview mirror and making his way down the ramp.

Trailing his hand gently up and down the driver’s inner thigh, he toyed with not mentioning what was on his mind. “I, um…” When he saw that Richie was watching him, he knew he had to just say it. He was a big boy and it had been a good date. They weren’t strangers. He could ask for what he wanted. “I don’t wanna go home.” He was, so he thought, laying it on thick. He tried to ignore the cheering in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like his nosy best friend.

Trying to come up with a plan of action, Richie hmmed deep in his throat. They were on a scarcely traveled road between the highway and Derry by then so there wasn’t much in the way of entertainment options. “Okay. I don’t have a ton of ideas for where we could head this late, but we could grab a cup of coffee and maybe take a w-”

Apparently, he wasn’t laying it on thick enough. “No. I don’t want to go out, either,” Eddie said. He let his hand drift up higher as he moved closer, straddling the hump in the center of Richie’s old truck. He pressed his lips just under his boyfriend’s stubbled jaw and hooked his finger into his belt loop for emphasis.

“ _ Oh _ . _ ”  _ Richie whimpered, getting the picture in sparkling technicolor. “Uh. I-”

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice low and very close to Richie’s ear. He nipped at it and Richie let out a shocked gasp.

All he could do was nod. That was twice in less than twelve hours that Eddie Kaspbrak had rendered Richie Tozier utterly speechless. He slid one hand off the wheel and draped it over Eddie’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“How about your place?” he asked between deviously placed wet kisses to his neck.

Richie smiled. He had certainly not thought that that would be on the menu, but suddenly, he was hungry, ravenous for anything Eddie had to offer. “Okay,” he agreed, trying to ignore the stirring in his jeans until they got back to his place.

However, the growing bulge was proof enough for him that he was on the right track. From the back of his throat, Eddie made an amused little noise and decided that, just this once, he could abide a little distracted driving. There was no one around, it was a beautiful night with no tricky conditions. Why not have some fun? He palmed lightly over Richie’s package growing more and more eager to get back to Richie’s. 

Leaning over, he focused all of his attention on Richie. Undoing the buttons on his shirt, he busied his fingers in the dark hair on his chest. When they caught the one light on the way back to town, Eddie licked a trail down his neck, stopping only to suck lightly at the base of his neck. 

“If you keep doing that, we might have to stop before we get there,” he panted. When Eddie did just that, Richie groaned lightly at the loss of contact. ”That didn’t mean stop,” he whined. He tugged Eddie closer and stole a kiss. The passenger laughed and knocked his knee against his boyfriend’s.

Derry’s city limits came into view and Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. He leaned over and kissed Richie’s cheek, grazing his nails lightly through his hair. The anticipation was palpable. He tried to ignore the electric charge running through his veins and clear into the air, but there was no denying. 

They pulled into the back alley behind the diner and Richie threw it in park. He made it around to Eddie’s door and, unlike earlier, Eddie waited. Richie opened the door and before he knew which way was up, Eddie’s legs were around his waist. He lifted him out of the truck effortlessly as Eddie finally got to kiss him the way he’d wanted to all evening. Richie knocked the passenger door shut with his ass and pressed Eddie up against the wall kissing him back as he fumbled to unlock the door with trembling fingers. 

Finally, the lock clicked into place and they were in. He punched the alarm code in blindly behind him and pulled Eddie along with him. His long fingers threaded into the lower hem of Eddie’s shirt and it was off in the blink of an eye.

“I’ve never come in the back door before,” Eddie panted, leading Richie upstairs by the collar, giggling.

Voice low, full of lust, Richie commented between loosely targeted kisses, “There’ll be time to do it again real soon.” Eddie laughed loudly at that, and Richie went suddenly lightheaded. Eddie’s laugh was intoxicating under the most G-rated of circumstances. God knows he’d spent enough time trying to get him to laugh in the most ridiculous ways over the years. 

When they finally reached his upstairs apartment, there was the sparest moment of breathless anticipation. Eddie removed Richie’s shirt the rest of the way and moved to his pants. Richie walked them back toward his bedroom, bodies flush together. “We probably should have-” he said as Eddie’s knees hit the edge of the bed, sending him back onto the mattress with a flounce, “talked about-” he said, climbing on top of him, kissing a glistening trail up his muscular chest, “the _ back door _ before. Are you-”

Richie might not have had this in mind, but it was largely all Eddie could think about. He was well prepared for whatever might have happened that night. “Up for whatever you want,” he said.

He stood back up, running through all of the options.  _ Pick a place to start,  _ he had to coach himself.  _ Slow down. _ “Well, let’s start with all of you,” Richie said, quickly stripping Eddie of his pants and briefs, leaving him in nothing but a smile and some quickly developing hickeys that were going to be none too easy to explain. He was, by the best of Richie’s estimation, the most beautiful person that had ever been in that bed. His jaw hung a little slack as he fiddled with his glasses. Normally, he took them off. They got in the way, they got steamed up, they were too likely to fall off, but he didn’t want to miss a single expression on Eddie’s face.

What he was missing, however, was the goofy grin on his own face. “Why do you look so dumbstruck?” Eddie asked, propping himself on his elbow to take Richie’s hand and bring him back to him.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he laughed, a little embarrassed by his reaction.

That, Eddie could agree with. “Me neither,” he said before accepting a long kiss from the man straddling his lap.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” Richie said, kissing him again. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He moved down and licked down the line of Eddie’s throat before he bit lightly. “And this,” he said, trailing his fingers down to Eddie’s hands, entwining their fingers. “And this.” He directed their paired hands toward Eddie’s groin. “And definitely this,” he said, voice almost a growl.

Eddie shifted as Richie let go of his hand in favor of his cock. Richie wrapped his hand around the shaft with more confidence than Eddie had really expected. He took long, slow strokes. “Shit,” Eddie hissed as Richie teased his thumb over the head. Still, that same soft smile played at his lips. “Like what you see?” he asked, when he finally realized that it was him getting that reaction out of him.

“What do you think?” Richie answered, gesturing down to his own erection with no intent of remedying it. His focus was purely on Eddie. He could wait. He had waited. He would wait forever.

Eddie gave a cocksure grin. “I think you should show me how much you like it,” he growled playfully.

That was something to which Richie was only too happy to oblige. “Gladly,” he said with a wink before bringing his mouth into the mix. He licked up the length of Eddie. He couldn’t help himself and, before long, he had taken him in his mouth entirely, moving up and down.

“God, Richie,” Eddie moaned, hands moving reflexively to Richie’s curls, “your mouth is perfect.”

He pulled back slightly, letting his breath ghost over his sensitive skin. “I’ll have to remember that the next time you tell me I talk too much,” he teased.

“You do-” Eddie answered, back arching despite himself as Richie went back to sucking down on him, “but Christ has that given you a strong tongue.”

They continued on, Eddie encouraging Richie’s attention with some of his own. His hands around trailed to his boyfriend’s chest and he brought him back up to meet his mouth. Eddie sat up and moved against Richie. He was getting close and needed release. 

Richie knew it. He could feel the urgency in his touch, the rapid breathing. It was only a matter of time. He reached up to his bedside table and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. Waving the foil packet between them, Richie asked, “So, who’s wearing this?”

Eddie leaned in and kissed him, taking it from him and opening it. “You first,” he said, rolling it over Richie’s hard-on. “Since you’re doing so well with your mouth, let’s see what else you’ve got,” he teased. He rose to his knees and backed up to Richie, planting another sloppy kiss over his shoulder. 

“Everything I got’s yours, Eds,” Richie said smoothly, slicking up his hand with lube and working one long finger inside of Eddie a few times. Eddie moaned a little, moving hard against him. “So, you do like it when I call you that,” Richie teased, 

He hummed a low, pleasured sound, raw and real through his own love bitten lips. “Do not,” he whined as Richie slid in a second.

“Oh, really?” he asked, surprised. That was something he could play with. If there was one thing that got Richie going, it was how easily he could get Eddie going. This confirmation, the way Eddie squirmed and moaned at the pet name, was ammunition he could run on for a while. “Is that so? You like it when I call you Eddie?” There was no response. He added a third finger and smiled as Eddie’s hips bucked toward him. He leaned in, so close to Eddie’s ear that he could feel his breath against his sweat-slicked skin. "But not when I call you Eds?"

"Fuck," Eddie gasped as a shiver overtook him. He reached around and snagged a fistful of Richie’s hair. "Okay, no more talking," he commanded before bringing his lips to land where they may, in this case, Richie’s neck. He sucked down on the curve just above his collar bone. "I'm ready when you are."

Richie retrieved the lube from the spot in the sheets where it had been discarded. He added more to his hand, rubbed some over his cock and slowly moved into Eddie, feeling him warm and tight around him. Eddie nodded and moved slightly, adjusting the angle and set a pace. Richie took the lead after, his hand snaking around to Eddie, stroking him to match his own thrusts. Eddie started to whine. To Richie, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. The fact that he was the one making him make that sound was just gravy. He moved his hand faster and faster, adding more pressure as he did. Eddie began to tremble and straightened up to press back against Richie, who folded back, feeling his own orgasm edge closer.

He planted a kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck and uttered words of encouragement, sending Eddie over the edge. He tensed and relaxed a few times, letting the waves of his ecstasy crash over him. 

The sight of Eddie, wrecked with pleasure, was too much for Richie. He finished, panting and spent, just moments later. 

The couple adjusted in the bed, Richie crashed back against the pillows, knotting the used condom and tossing it into the bin under his nightstand, and Eddie splayed against Richie’s chest, fingers curling into the dense hair across his boyfriend’s chest. “I can’t believe you kept that horoscope,” he mused.

Richie blushed, hoping to play it cool. “Eh. I’m just a slob and a little bit of a hoarder,” he lied, eyeing Eddie’s pleased grin and smiling himself. “If, once, over the last eight years, I’d decided to clean out my wallet-”

“Oh, no, no, no-” Eddie argued, shifting up to kiss him, reveling in the ease of that, only grimacing a little internally at the passing realization that his mouth had just been on his dick and he hadn’t brushed his teeth. Pushing that aside, he added, “You can’t take it back. You’ve been pining. You’ve been  _ yearning _ .” He stretched the word out teasingly, drumming his fingers against Richie’s jaw and kissed him again. “I’m The Man That Got Away.” Richie laughed broadly and covered his face with his arms. Eddie patted his chest gently, offering an encouraging, “It’s okay, Judy. You can say it.”

“Oh, give me a break,” he groan-laughed. He took a deep breath with his face still hidden. Richie liked to imagine himself the more secretive type. That’s why he made the jokes, to hide the soft heart. If he didn’t make the jokes, people would know and that would never do. 

Derry, years back, hadn’t been nearly as accepting as it had become. When he was coming to grips with his bisexuality, a gay wedding in the town square would never have happened. A restaurant in that same square would never have proudly hung a rainbow flag over its sign. If that restaurant’s line cook and waiter were to openly flirt, they’d have been beaten down as soon as they’d left premises. Maybe even before. 

But Richie’s parents, who had passed the hardware store that had been his grandfather’s down to him, especially convenient since it was right next door to his father’s orthodontic office, loved him no matter what. Maggie may not have understood him, and Went may have been a little out of touch, they were encouraging and warm and he would never have been the man he became without them. When Maggie died a few years prior, she had said that the one thing that she wished she’d been able to see was Richie happy and settled. He’d argued that he was happy and she didn’t need to worry about him. She looked him in the eye and said, “Happy enough. You’ll know when you’ve found the happy I mean,” then nodded over Richie’s shoulder to his father, sitting in the corner and mending Maggie’s favorite pair of socks because her feet were constantly cold.

In the years since he’d never forgotten that exchange, but he’d tried to ignore it. As he laid there in that bed, sated and being teased by the one person he’d wanted since the day he walked into the Bridge, it dawned on him. This was that happy, laying on his chest and finally his.  _ There, Ma, I found it. _

Because of that happy, he found himself willing to admit it. He shifted his arms up over his head. “Yes. I pined,” he groaned.

Eddie smiled, pleased with himself. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“I love secrets,” Richie gasped playfully.

Leaning over him, he brushed a few fallen curls from Richie’s forehead, revealing his sleepy blue eyes. “I pined, too.”

“Did you?” he asked, honestly a little shocked by Eddie’s admission. “I tried not to. But, it’s always been you, I think,” he said with a yawn. He fished for the edge of the blanket and covered them both before pulling Eddie in tightly and kissing the top of his head.

Eddie chuckled warmly and stole Richie’s glasses from his face, reaching across him to put them on his nightstand. “Go to sleep, you old softie.” He kissed him once more, then curled himself around Richie’s side.

Usually, the addition of a strange bed and no bedtime routine would have condemned Eddie to a fidgety, sleepless night. To his surprise, he slept soundly, safe and warm in Richie’s arms. Soundly, that is, until Richie’s phone started blaring Peanut Butter Jelly Time. Richie groaned and dismissed it. Of course, he would have forgotten to unset one of his many morning alarms. Of course.

“It’s early,” Eddie whined, burying his face in Richie’s chest. “S’too early.”

Richie laughed a little. “I run a diner,” he reminded him. He kissed him on top of the head, amused at how ruffled Eddie’s normally perfectly coiffed hair could be after a night of sex and sleep. 

Moving closer to Richie, with one leg draped over his, he said, “I know.” He rolled his eyes but still continued to cling to his boyfriend.

“That diner is open for breakfast,” Richie added, bemused. “A breakfast you frequent regularly.” He started working through what he was going to make Eddie for breakfast in his head. He hadn’t shopped because he hadn’t expected Eddie to spend the night after their first date. He thought he would have time to wow him. Now, he had to work with what he had. He had some leftover blueberries in the fridge and...

“Yes, and that doesn’t change the fact that it is, indeed, early,” Eddie argued, cutting him off.

Richie’s voice was still low and gravelly. “I’m an early person most of the time,” he said, despite not moving, exhibiting no proof of that fact.

Muffled in Richie’s neck, Eddie groaned. “Early is evil. Must kill early.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said, tilting his head up to kiss him lightly. 

_ Babe _ . The pet name caught him off guard, but he couldn’t say he hated it. In fact, he should have known. He’d been Eds, Spaghetti, and a litany of other iterations and variations over the years. Seldom Eddie. He should have expected that it would have extended once they got together. He answered with a soft, “Hmm”. 

“I’m sorry. Was that too soon?” Richie said in a panic. He knew that Eddie was consistently fighting with him about the pet names, but that hadn’t even occurred to him. It just slipped out and it felt right so he went with it.

Eddie smiled, but adjusted, starting to get up. “No, that was good,” he assured, kissing him once more for emphasis. Richie had a grip on his hand and tugged, trying to keep him in their happy little bubble just a moment longer. “I gotta get up,” he laughed, inching toward the edge of the bed.

That wouldn’t do. Richie wanted to sleep a little while longer and had every intention of making this a good morning-after experience. “No,” he whined, tugging him back into the bed, his arm around his waist, bringing him down with a thud.

Still laughing, Eddie finally managed to free himself and stood up. “Yes.”

“Why?” Richie pouted, even going so far as to stick out his lower lip in protest.

Eddie leaned down and captured it between his own. “Work,” he said, glancing up at the clock and shaking his head. “Need coffee,” he grunted.

“I don’t keep coffee in the apartment. It’s downstairs,” Richie called out sleepily, dozing back off. Just two more minutes wouldn’t hurt…

The loud, Hawaiian shirt Richie had worn on their date the night prior hung on the chair where he’d dropped it when they came in. Eddie’s underwear weren’t too far off. He tugged them on and slipped into the oversized shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. He clicked the door shut and padded down the stairs. 

When he reached the entry to the diner, he slipped inside and moved behind the counter for the coffee pot instinctually. He looked up to find Stan with his arms crossed, a bemused smile on his face. Eddie’s eyes widened. He turned back to the dining room, loaded with patrons. He wrapped the shirt around him tightly and scurried back up the stairs. 

Slam.

The front door to Richie’s apartment closed behind the still startled man as he made his way to the bed.

“You okay, Eds?” Richie asked, his eyes still closed.

“Mhm,” he lied, chewing at the corner of his thumb. “I think people are gonna know.”

Richie opened his eyes and took in the sight of his boyfriend, one knee banging against the edge of the mattress, clearly startled. “What?” He wasn’t sure what had spooked Eddie, but clearly he was unhappy. “That’s… my shirt,” Richie said with a smile. He had always loved the sight of his partners swimming in his clothes, but there was something about Eddie in his shirt that brought out a conundrum: he wanted to tear it off of him but also never wanted to see him in anything else.

Woefully unaware of Richie’s thoughts, Eddie’s eyes widened and he nodded fast. “Yuh-huh.”

He tugged at the bottom of the shirt and Eddie climbed into the bed on his knees. “Why?” Richie asked, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s thigh.

“Oh, I put it on to go get coffee,” he said, as conversationally and flippantly as he could. There was still a hint of “Please, be freaking out with me here,” to his voice.

Unbothered, Richie kissed up Eddie’s thigh and parted the shirt. Then, it hit him. “Downstairs?” he asked, stopping entirely.

Eddie nodded. With his eyes locked on Richie’s, he tried to drive home the point without flat out admitting that he walked into the diner half-naked, broke probably a hundred health codes, and will never be able to look Stan in the eye again. “Yeah. Well, you don’t keep it upstairs,” he reminded him.

Richie furrowed his brows and backed up, looking at Eddie carefully. “The diner’s open.”

“Ya don’t say!” Eddie gasped.

Turning to his nightstand and retrieving his glasses, Richie took a better look at the man in front of him. “You walked into the diner like that?”

With a bark of a laugh, Eddie corrected him. “No, actually.” He stood and pushed the shirt open, revealing his briefs and hickey laden chest. “I walked into the diner like this.”

Mortified, Richie flopped onto his stomach and buried his face in a pillow. “Oh my God,” he groaned. This was not good. They had discussed keeping it between them until they were good and ready. That idea was shot to shit, now. 

“I didn’t think the diner could open without you!” Eddie whimpered loudly. 

He rolled to his side and covered his mouth. “I had Stan open.”  _ Stan _ . Holy shit. He knew that Richie was going out with Eddie that night. He’d never say anything, but oh God, did he see? 

Eddie made a sharp gesture toward the door and groaned, “Obviously.”

After a few calming breaths, Richie rolled onto his back. “Okay, so it’s out,” he said. He reached his hand for Eddie’s who, thankfully, climbed into bed beside him and knelt next to him.

“People will talk but…” Eddie shrugged, talking more for the sake of talking, of convincing both of them, even if he didn’t believe it. “It’ll die down, right?”

Richie nodded, hoping it seemed convincing. “Right.”

“Might take a couple days,” Eddie said.

“Weeks,” Richie countered.

“Months?” Eddie pursed his lips, staring at the ceiling, then looked back to Richie. “But then it’ll go back to normal.” It had to. The town loved to take jokes too far, but eventually, they gave up. Usually.

“Absolutely.” Richie looked down at their joined hands. What difference did it make, really? As long as they were together, they’d figure it out. “So, they know. Who cares?”

Eddie leaned down and kissed his boyfriend gently. “They were gonna find out anyway,” he sighed. 

Richie agreed. It would only have gotten tricky trying to hide it. "It’s probably better this way.” He couldn’t wait to scream from the rooftops that he got to call Eddie Kaspbrak his boyfriend. 

As soon as he woke up the rest of the way. 

He looked around for the coffee Eddie had gone in search of, intending to steal a sip. “Where’s your coffee?” he asked. 

Eddie’s jaw dropped in shock. He gestured down to his outfit, as though to say “Where the fuck do you think?” 

Richie sat up immediately, digging around for his jeans on the floor. “ _ I’m _ getting your coffee,” he said, with a hint of amusement. He wasn’t ready to get out of bed, but it was all worth it because Eddie would be there when he came back.


End file.
